PS 

3157 
WE  9     Yteter  house 


-  tti 


Southern  Branch 
of  the 

University  of  California 

Los  Angeles 

Form  L-l 
PS 

3157 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


MAR  1  8  1924 
AUG4     192* 


Form  L-9-2?n-7,'22 


LAYS  for   LITTLE    CHAPS 


"THE    LITTLE    CHAP    THAT    RUNS    THE    HOUSE" 


Lays  for 
Little  Chaps 

BY 

ALFRED  JAMES  WATERHOUSE 


NEW    TORK    •    NEW     AMSTERDAM 
BOOK    COMPANY  •  PUBLISHERS  •  MCMII 


Copyright,  igo2,  by 

NEW  AMSTERDAM   BOOK   COMPANY 

in  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain 

Published  November,  1902 


All  rights  reserved 


UNIVERSITY   PRESS    •    JOHN  WILSON 
AND   SON      •      CAMBRIDGE      U.  S.  A. 


To  Ruth  and  Dorothy 


OF  THE  LAYS 


PACK 

The  Little  Chap  that  Runs  the  House     ...  1 

Charlie  Jones'  Bad  Luck 3 

A  Passenger  from  Phantom  Land 5 

Our  Hushaby  Song 8 

The  Baby  in  Pants 10 

The  Land  of  Three  Feet  High 12 

Little  Willie's  Christmas  Wish 14 

Wen  I  am  Growed  Up 17 

Saint  Santa  Claus 19 

The  Remarkable  Tale  of  Miss  Kitty  Cat       .     .  21 

When  the  Baby  Came 26 

The  Baby's  Remarks 29 

A  Hard,  Hard  Citizen 31 

The  Land  of  the  Hushaby  King 33 

A  Very  Queer  Umbrella 37 

vii 


A  LIST  OF  THE  LAYS 


PAGE 

Fellow  Came  to  our  House 39 

How  the  Babies  Kide 42 

O'er  the  Sea  of  Dreams 44 

The  Schoolgirl  that  I  Hated     ...     .  N  .     .     .  47 

My  Orful  Cross-Eyed  Teacher 50 

"I  Love  You  Each  Year  Better" 54 

How  the  Flowers  Grow .     .  56 

My  Youthful  Pants 58 

The  People  of  Wonder  Land .  60 

But  Two  Children       63 

My  Pa  an'  Ma 65 

The  Mournful  Tale  of  the  Snee  Zee  Familee    .  69 

"I'm  Praying  for  You" 72 

The  Loving  Mother 75 

The  Despot  Kings 80 

I  "Wish  I  was  an  Engineer 83 

It 's  Hard  to  Say 87 

A  Little,  Little  Fellow 90 

The  Baby's  Faith 93 

When  Brother  Stiggins  Come  to  Tea       .     .     .  95 

Her  Faith  Never  Falters 99 

viii 


A  LIST  OF  THE  LAYS 


PAGB 

When  Mother  Called 101 

The  Song  of  Songs 103 

A  Song  for  the  Babies  . 107 

The  Little  Boy  Who  Saw  Santa  Claus  .     .     .  110 

She 's  Gone  Away 114 

Oh,  Little  Wee  Maiden .  116 

The  Poor  Little  Birdies 119 

Give  Me  the  Fables 122 

A  Song  for  the  Little  Chaps 125 

When  Even  Conies 127 

At  the  Bottom  of  the  Sea 129 

Dorothy's  Wisdom 132 

The  Teacher  Knows 135 

Swimming  isn't  What  it  Was 138 

My  First  Autograph 141 

My  Little  Valentine 143 

Hushaby,  Lullaby 145 

When  Baby  Bloweth  Kisses 147 


THE  little  chap  that  runs  the  house, 
He  is  a  sight  to  see ; 
His  face  is  as  a  saucer  round  ; 
He  reacheth  to  my  knee. 
But  when  he  shouts  at  me,  "  Hey,  there  !  " 
I  know  !t  were  wisdom  to  beware. 

The  little  chap  that  runs  the  house 

Hath  noises  many  score, 
And  when  I  think  I  've  learned  them  all 

He  springeth  several  more. 
Yells,  whoops  and  shrieks  to  Bedlam  run  — 
He  sayeth  only :  "  My  !  What  fun  ! " 

Sometimes  when  I  awhile  would  write 
In  some  secluded  spot 
1  1 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


A-sudden  Panic's  frenzied  might 

Doth  mingle  in  my  plot : 
With  blare  of  trumpet,  beat  of  drum, 
"  Say,  ain't  you  glad  'cause  I  have  come  ? ' 

The  little  chap  that  runs  the  house 

Doth  never  pause  to  dream 
That  "  business  "  is  a  sacred  word 

In  man's  sagacious  scheme. 
"  Up  on  your  shoulder !  Take  me ! 


Do!" 


We  march  to  shriek  and  mad  halloo. 

The  little  chap  that  runs  the  house 
When  daylight  all  hath  fled 

Doth  rub  his  sleepy  eyes,  and  say : 
"  I  fink  I  '11  go  to  bed." 

Then  by  his  mother  kneeleth  he, 

And  angels  heed  his  baby  plea. 


The  little  chap 
His  noise  is 

For  shriek  and 

halloo 
Are  tuned  to 

And  so  I  say  : 

joy, 

And   heed    his 
boy." 


that  runs  the  house, 
dear  to  me, 
shout    and     loud 

Heaven's  key ; 
"  God  give  him 


way,  my  little 


Charlie  Jones'  Bad  Luck 


CHARLIE  JONES' 
BAD   LUCK 

As  discussed  by 
little  Willie 


I  DON'T  care  if  Charlie  Jones 
Is  better  'an  I  be  ; 
An'  I  don't  care  if  teacher  says 
He 's  smart  'long  side  er  me  ; 
An'  I  don't  care,  w'en  vis'tors  come, 

If  she  on  him  does  call ; 
He  ain't  got  measles,  like  I  have  — 
He  don't  have  luck  at  all. 

He  never  had  the  whoopin'  cough, 

Ner  mos'  cut  off  his  thumb, 
Ner  ever  fell  an'  broke  his  leg 

An'  had  a  doctor  come. 
He  hardly  ever  stubs  his  toe, 

An'  if  he  does,  he  '11  bawl  ! 
There  's  nuthin'  special  comes  to  him  — 

He  don't  have  luck  at  all. 
3 


Lay  s  fo  r  L  it  tie  Ch  ap  s 


An'  I  don't  care  if  lie  can  say 

More  tex's  an'  things  'an  I ; 
He  never  burnt  both  hands  to  once 

'Long  'bout  the  Fo'th  July. 
He  never  had  the  chicken  pox, 

Ner  p'iseu  oak  —  las'  Fall ! 
He  can't  be  proud  o'  nuthin'  much  - 

He  don't  have  luck  at  all. 


A  Passenger  from  Phantom  Land 


A  PASSENGER  FROM   PHANTOM 
LAND 

A  PASSENGER    came    from    Phantom 
Land  ; 
Ho  and  olio  !  but  a  sight  was  lie  ! 
With  a  voice  that  was  merely  a  loud  demand 

For  something  to  eat  or  to  drink  maybe. 
A  passenger  came  from  Phantom  Land ; 

A  queerer  and  quainter  you  never  have  seen, 
With  a  mite  of  a  foot  and  a  bit  of  a  hand, 
And  I  vow  he  was  only  a  crying  machine. 

But  it 's  ho  and  oho  !  for  the  passengers  all ! 
Pudgy  and  funny  and  dimpled 

and  small, 
Who  know  just  enough  for  their 

mammas  to  call  — 
Here 's   to    them,    wherever 
they  be ! 

5 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


A  passenger  came  from  Phantom  Land, 
His  baggage  forgotten  and  left  behind. 

He  had  n't  a  stocking  in  which  to  stand, 

And  he  could  n't  have  stood  if  he  had,  you 
mind. 


He  had  n't  a  coat  to  his  blessed  name ; 

He  had  n't  a  garment ;  he  had  n't  a  thing. 
But,  worse  than  all  that  —  and   I  count  it  a 
shame  — 

His  hair  and  his  teeth  he  'd  forgotten  to  bring. 

But  it 's  ho  and  oho  !  for  the  passengers  queer ! 
The  little  wee  despots,  we  welcome  them  here. 
The  greater  the  tyrant,  the  more  he  is  dear  — 
Here 's  to  them,  wherever  they  be  ! 

A  passenger  came  from  Phantom  Land. 

The  customs  officials  all  passed  him  by. 
He  had  n't  a  thing  they  could  touch  on  hand ; 

There 's  never  a  tax  on  an  animate  cry. 
6 


A  Passenger  from  Phantom  Land 

But  one  there  was  greeted  him,  greeted  him 

here 
With  a  kiss  and  a  prayer  that  the  Father 

heard, 
For  these  little  passengers  still  arc  dear, 

Though  pudgy  and  useless  and  quaint  and 
absurd. 

So  it 's  ho  and  oho  !  for  the  passengers  wee  ! 
They  are  dear  unto  you,  and  they  're  dear  unto 

me. 

Each  care  that  they  bear  is  a  blessing,  you  see  — 
God  bless  them,  wherever  they  be ! 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


OUR  HUSHABY  SONG 

IS  ING  to  my  baby  a  hushaby  song ; 
She  sings  to  her  dolly  a  lullaby  too. 
"  Oh,  hush  you,"  I  sing,  "  for  the  sleep 

angels  throng," 

But  she  singeth  only,  "  Er-goo  "  and  "  Er- 
goo." 

"  Oh,  hush  you,  my  dearie. 

Through  all  of  the  day 
The  little  feet  weary, 

Wherever  they  stray. 
Now  white  angels  gather 
In  Sleep  Country  fair, 
Each  sent  by  the  Father 
To  welcome  you  there." 
8 


Our  Hushaby  Song 


So  lowly  I  sing  the  even  shades  through, 
While  she  singeth  only,  "  Er-goo "  and   "  Er- 
goo." 

She  sings  to  her  baby  ;  I  sing  to  my  own. 

But  she  singeth  sweeter  whate'er  I  may  do, 
For  in  all  of  life's  music  there  soundeth  no 

tone 

So  sweet  as  a  bairnie's  contented  "  Er-goo." 
'•'  So  hush  you,  my  dearie. 

The  little  stars  peep, 
With  eyes  that  are  cheery, 

To  guard  you,  asleep ; 
And  peeping,  down-peeping, 

Full  lowly  they  say  : 
'  O'er  Sleep's  river  creeping, 

One  cometh  this  way.' " 
One  murmured  "  Er-goo  ;  " 
the    elves    nearer 

creep, 

And  baby  and  dolly  have 
both  gone  to  sleep. 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


THE  BABY  IN  PANTS 

HE  'S  a  little  bit  of  baby, 
'Bout  as  tall  as  pa's  silk  hat, 
An'  as  chubby  as  a  cherub, 
An'  you  know  how  chubby 's  that. 
Yistuday  my  ma,  she  said  she 

Guessed  she  'd  put  him  into  pants ; 
An'  all  other  sights  that 's  funny,  — 
They  ain't  more  'n  a  circumstance. 

Uncle  William,  he  jus'  hollered, 

'Cause  the  baby  looked  so  queer ; 
An'  my  ma  she  jus'  kep'  sayin' : 

"  B'ess  him  !  pootsy-wootsy  dear." 
But  my  pa,  he  wan't  so  tickled  — 

Anyways,  he  kep'  it  hid  — 
Fer  he  said :  "  Fer  lan's  sake,  Ellen, 

Wat  you  done  to  that  there  kid  ? " 
10 


The  Baby  in  Pants 


But  the  baby,  he  stood  wond'rin', 

Kind  o'  srnilin'  in  the  sun, 
An'  it  seemed  the  brightest  sunbeams 

Come  to  kiss  the  little  one. 
An'  he  looked  so  sweet  an'  cunnin', 

Standin'  where  the  sunrays  glance, 
That  my  pa  says :  "  I  guess,  Ellen, 

That  we  '11  let  him  keep  them  pants." 


11 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


THE  LAND  OF  THREE  FEET  HIGH 

IN  the  Land  of  Three  Feet  High 
Very  many  wonders  be  ; 
Castles  reaching  to  the  sky, 
Elfin-haunts  in  vale  or  lea ; 
Fairy  boats  that  ceaseless  ply 
O'er  the  Sea  of  Three  Feet  High. 

There  are  giants,  very  tall ; 

Goblins  playing  in  the  dell ; 
Brownies,  queerest  folk  of  all  ; 

More,  ah,  more  than  I  can  tell ; 
And  I  sometimes  pause  and  sigh 
For  the  Land  of  Three  Feet  High. 
12 


The  Land  of  Three  Feet  High 

And  the  people,  who  are  they  ? 

Lads  and  lasses  whom  we  know  ; 
But  beside  them,  where  they  stray, 

We  may  never,  never  go. 
We  have  wandered,  you  and  I, 
From  the  Land  of  Three  Feet  High. 


13 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


LITTLE  WILLIE'S   CHRISTMAS  WISH 


S 


ANTA  GLAUS,  he  brought  me  a  great 

big  drum. 

Orto  hear  me  play  it !     Bet  I  make  it 
hum  ! 
Brought  my  cousin  Charlie  an  engine  with  a 

bell 

An'  a  reg'lar  whistle  that  '11  almos'  yell. 
Brought  the  other  fellers  nices'  kind  o'  toys ; 
Hootin',  tootin',  shootin',  makin'  lots  o'  noise. 
But  when  the  fellers  visit  me  —  they  do  mos' 

ev'ry  day  — 

It 's  orful  diserpointin'  what  my  pa  '11  say. 
Toot,  hoot,  toot ! 
Bang,  slam,  bang ! 
14 


Little  Willie's  Christmas  Wish 

Wile  pa  gits  red  an'  redder,  an'  says :  "  Well, 
I'll  be  hang!" 

But  ma  says :  "  William  Johnson !  Such  lan 
guage  to  employ ! 

Have  you  forgotten  that  you  once  was  jus'  a 
little  boy?" 

An'  pa  says  :  "  S'posin'  if  I  was,  this  fac'  is  no 
less  true  : 

I  did  n't  have  a  license  then  to  be  a  pirit,  too." 


What's  the  use  of  Santa  Glaus  if  boys  can't 

play 
Without  their  pas  a-gittin'  red  an'  talkin'  in 

that  way  ? 

Never  was  no  fellers  'at  are  better  'an  we  be ; 
Jus'  a-playin'  with  the  things  he  brought  to 

them  an'  me. 

Tootin'  with  the  whistle,  shootin'  with  the  gun, 
Blowin'  of  the  trumpet,  havin'  lots  of  fun. 
Shootin'  at  a  targit,  shot  my  pa  instead  — 
Orful  diserpointin'  what  my  pa  then  said. 
Ting-a-ling-ling  ! 
Toot-er-toot-too  ! 
Till  pa  says :  "  Oh,  blame  Santa  Glaus  !  I  guess 

'at  that '11  do  !" 

15 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


An'  he  ketches  me  an'  Charlie  an'  yanks  us  to 

the  door ; 
An'  the  fellers  say  they'll  never  come  to  play 

with  me  no  more. 
An'  that  is  why  I  'm  wishin',  an'  so  I  told  my 

ma, 
That  Santa  Glaus  '11  bring  me  nex'  a  bran'  new 

pa. 


16 


Wen  I  am  Growed  Up 


WEN   I  AM 

GROWED  UP 


W'EN  I  am  growed  up  an'  am  quite  a 
big  man 
I  '11  go  vvitli  a  cirkis,  I  guess,  ef  I 
can  — 

An'  I  proberbly  can —  an'  I  s'pose  'at  I  '11  be 
A  clown  er  a  ringmaster  gorjus  to  see, 
An'  I  '11  act  in  a  tent  on  mos'  ev'ry  night, 
An'  the  folks  '11  say,  "  Goodness  !  'at  feller  's  a 

sight ! " 
An'  they  '11  yell  an'  hurrah  jus'  es  loud  es  they 

can  — 
Wen  I  am  growed  up  an'  am  quite  a  big  man. 

Wen  I  am  growed  up  an'  am  quite  —  I  don' 

know, 
Fer  sometimes  I  think  'at  to  sea  I  will  go, 

2  17 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


An'  I  '11  be  a  bold  pirit,  to  sail  the  seas  through 
An'  capture  the  ships  as  the  pirits  all  do, 
Er  a  street-car  conductor,  er  brave  engineer, 
Er  runnin'  a  candy-store  mos'  of  the  year  — 
But  ina  says  to  make  me  a  preacher 's  her  plan, 
Wen  I  am  growed  up  an'  am  quite  a  big  man. 


18 


Saint  Santa  Clans 


SAINT  SANTA  GLAUS 

TASKED  a  little  girl  one  day 
Which  saint  she  liked  the  best ; 
"  Saint  Peter,  or  Saint  Paul  ?  "  I  said, 
"  Or  which  one  of  the  rest  ?  " 
And  straight  she  answered  me  :  "  Zere  's  one 

I  likes  the  best,  betoz  "  — 
Faith  !  how  I  longed  to  kiss  her  then  !  — 
"  He 's  dood  —Saint  Santy  Tlaus." 

Ho,  all  ye  ones  whose  heads  and  hearts 

Have  frosted  with  the  years  ; 
So  frozen  that  for  childish  faith 

You  Ve  nothing  left  save  sneers, 
19 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


You  'd  better  let  your  hearts  thaw  out 

By  genial  nature's  laws, 
For  she  was  right,  the  little  maid  : 

"  He 's  dood  —  Saint  Santy  Tlaus." 


20 


The  Remarkable  Tale  of  Miss  Kitty  Cat 


THE   REMARKABLE   TALE 
OF  MISS  KITTY  CAT 


LITTLE   Miss    Kitty   Cat  climbed   my 
knee 
Last  night  as  I  sat  by  the  fire, 
And  her  eyes  were  as  green  as  green  could  be, 
(Oh,  she  was  a  wonderful  sight  to  see !) 
And  her  hairs  were  just  like  wire, 
This  thin  and  singular  wire. 

But  I  stroked  her  gently,  I  stroked  her  long, 

Till  her  eyes  grew  yellow  again, 
And  she  sung  me  the  most  remarkable  song ; 
The  tune  went  just  pur-r-ring  and  pur-r-ring 

along 

Till  she  'd  sung  it  thrice  over,  and  then 
She  sung  it  all  over  again. 
21 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


And  I  wrote  down  that  song  just  as  fast  as  I 
could, 

For  I  knew  that  you  wanted  to  hear, 
And  I  said  to  myself  that  you  certainly  should  — 
That  is,  if  you  're  'specially,  'specially  good  — 

And  here  is  its  story.     Dear !  Dear ! 

A  curious  story,  't  is  clear. 


"  It  was   only  this  evening  "  —  so   Kitty  Cat 

sung  — 
"  That  I  walked  in  a  wood  where  bad  doggies 

hung 

By  their  necks  to  the  limbs  of  the  trees, 
And  I  laughed  as  they  swung  in  the  breeze  ; 
For  I  Ve  always  insisted  —  't  was  plain  unto 

me  — 

That  the  place  for  a  dog  is  the  limb  of  a  tree, 
The  limb  of  a  very  tall  tree, 
Where  good  little  kitties  can  see 
How  their  bow-wows  are  choked,  unless  they  're 

of  tin, 

And  that  cannot  be,  for  they  'd  have  whistles  in, 
And  the  dogs  when  they  barked  would  just 

whistle  instead, 

And  I  never  have  heard  them  ;  no,  never !  "  she 
said, 

22 


The  Remarkable  Tale  of  Miss  Kitty  Cat 

"  And  I  really  don't  think  it  can  be  ; 
Do  you  ?  "  said  Miss  Kitty  to  me, 
"  But  I  wish  I  could  see  such  a  tree, 

A  tree, 
Such  a  wonderful,  beautiful  tree. 

"  There  were  bright  yellow  birds  in  that  mar 
vellous  wood, 
And   they  flew  to  my  feet  from  the  trees,  as 

they  should, 

And,  '  Eat  us  ;  come  eat  us,'  they  sung  ; 
(I  'm    acquainted,    you    know,    with    their 

tongue) 
And  the  mice  all  came  running  as  fast  as  they 

could, 
Saying,  '  Please  cat  us  first,'  and  I  told  them  I 

would ; 

I  surely  and  certainly  would, 
For  mice  are  especially  good. 
Then  the  mice  brought  me  forks,  and  the  birds 

brought  me  knives, 
And  they  all  said  at  once,  'Please  commence  on 

our  wives, 
For  we  love  them  so  much,  and  we  'd  give  you 

our  best, 

And  perhaps  when  they  're  eaten  you  '11  want  a 
long  rest. 

23 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Oh,  they  're  much  better  eating,  you  see,' 
Said  those  dear,  loving  husbands  to  me. 
Oh,  I  wish  that  such  blisses  could  be, 

Could  be, 
Could  surely  and  certainly  be ! 


"  But,    while    I    was    thinking    of   eating    a 

mouse, 

I  happened  to  notice  a  queer  little  house, 
And  out  came  a  man  with  a  gun, 
And  he  said,  '  I  will  limit  your  fun,' 
And  he  shot  a  queer  bullet  made  out  of  Dutch 

cheese, 
And  I  shouted,  'Don't,   Mister!  Oh,  don't,  if 

you  please  ! 

Oh,  I  hope  you  will  certainly  please. 
Can't  you  see  I  am  weak  in  the  knees  ? ' 
But  the  queer  bullet  chased  me  eight  times 

'round  a  tree, 
And  't  was  gaining  quite  fast,  as  I  could  n't  but 

see, 

And  I  wanted  to  pray,  but  '  Now  I  lay  me ' 
Did  n't  seem  quite  appropriate  then,  don't  you 

see? 

And  a  flutter  got  into  my  heart, 
And  it  seemed  that  it  surely  must  part; 
24 


The  Remarkable  Tale  of  Miss  Kitty  Oat 


And  I  waked  with  a  terrible  start, 

A  start, 
And  I  jumped  in  your  lap  with  that  start." 

So  that  is  the  story  Miss  Kitty  Cat  sung, 

As  she  lay  on  my  lap  last  night, 
And,  as  I  'in  well  acquainted  with  Kitty  Cat's 
tongue, 

I  know  I  have  written  it  right ; 
And  I  've  written  it  all  for  a  wee  little  one 

Who  is  dear,  oh,  so  dear  unto  me, 
And  if  it  shall  please  her,  now  that  it  is  done, 

I  '11  be  amply  repaid,  don't  you  see  ? 

And  there 's  one  little  thing  that  I  almost  forgot : 

Do  you  see  what  the  moral  is,  dears  ? 
Did  you  know  what  I  meant,  though  you'd 

much  rather  not, 

When  I  wrote  of  Miss  Kitty  Cat's  fears  ? 
Did  you  see  ?     You  did  not  ?     Well,  perhaps 

it 's  not  queer, 
Though  it  well  may  appear 

so  to  many, 

For  to  me  it  is  really  remark 
ably  clear 

That  the  story,  you  know, 
has  n't  any. 


25 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


WHEN   THE   BABY   CAME 

WHEN  the  baby  came  that  the  white 
stork  brings, 
Such  a  queer  little  baby  was  he, 
The  quaintest  and  cutest  of  laughable  things, 

He  was  really  a  marvel  to  see, 
For  he  puckered  his  brow,  and  he  twisted  his 

eyes, 
And  first  he  looked  simple  and  then  he  looked 

wise, 
And  the  way  that  he  wailed  would  cause  you 

surprise. 
It  was  surely  surprising  to  me, 

You  see ; 

It  was  more  than  surprising  to  me. 
26 


When  the  Baby  Came 


When  the  baby  came  't  was  his  grandma  said 
"  I  'm  sure  that  he  looks  like  his  rna ; " 

But  his  Aunt  Angelina  insisted,  instead  : 
"I'm  certain  he  favors  his  pa." 


But  the  baby  he  wriggled  his  little  red  toes, 
And  he  wailed  that  he  wanted  to  get  in  his 

clothes, 

Which  was  perfectly  proper,  as  you  may  suppose, 
For  he  'd  left  all  his  clothing  afar 

In  the  star 
Where  all  of  the  wee  babies  are. 

When  the  baby  came  there  was  somebody  said : 
"  May  the  Father  my  little  one  bless  ; " 

And  a  kiss,  like  a  blessing,  fell  soft  on  the  head 
Of  the  darling  she  yearned  to  caress. 
27 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


But  the  baby  he  heeded  nor  blessing  nor  prayer, 
As  he  blinked  at  the  light  with  a  meaningless 

stare ; 

Yet  I  'm  sure  the  petition  was  registered  where 
There  is  One  who  is  able  to  bless, 

And  I  guess 
That  in  answer  He  stooped  to  caress. 


28 


The  Baby's  Remarks 


THE   BABY'S   REMARKS 

THERE  is  nobody  knows  the  things  I 
think  ; 
There  is  nobody  knows,  I  guess, 
As  I  lie  in  my  crib  and  blink  and  blink, 
With  my  wee  little  brain  a-kink,  a-kink 

With  the  notions  I  can't  express. 
There  is  nobody  knows  what  I  try  to  say, 
As  I  lie  in  my  crib  and  talk  this  way : 

Goo,  goo,  goo,  goo  — 
A  toe  is  a  thing  to  eat— 

Goo,  goo,  goo,  goo  — 

It 's  really  remarkably  sweet. 
29 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


The  nurse  took  a  sticking  thing  one  day 

And  pinned  a  jacket  to  me. 
I  am  not  a  talker,  but  I  do  say 
That  I  made  them  take  it  away,  away, 

For  I  cried,  and  I  cried,  you  see. 
There  is  nobody  knows  what  I  say,  no  doubt. 
But  I  notice  they  got  that  sticker  out. 

Goo,  goo,  goo,  goo  — 

I  guess  that  my  head  I  '11  bump  — 
Goo,  goo,  goo,  goo  — 

When  I  do,  watch  the  big  nurse  jump. 


30 


A  Hard,  Hard  Citizen 


A   HARD, 
HARD  CITIZEN 


YOU  'RE  a  hard,  hard  citizen."     So  I 
said, 
And  he  freely  admitted  that  it  was  so. 
"  You  turned  my  mucilage  into  the  bed, 

But  rubbed  some  part  in  your  hair,  you  know. 
You  hid  my  slippers  and  then  forgot, 

And   the   place  where   you  put   them   still 

pu/zles  me. 

You  're  a  hard,  hard  citizen,  are  you  not  ? " 
And  he  smiled  as  he  answered,  "  Yeth,  I  be." 


"  The  faucet  you  turned  of  the  coal-oil  can, 

Till  the  floor  was  drenched  by  the  oily  flow; 
And  you  chuckled  in  glee  as  the  liquid  ran. 

Now  answer  me  straightly  :  Is  n't  it  so  ? " 
But  the  criminal  neither  did  shudder  nor  shrink, 

As  he  murmured,  "  A  'tory  p'ease  tell  to  me." 
"You  're  a  hard,  hard  citizen,  don't  you  think  ? " 

I  said,  and  he  smiled  as  he  said,  "  I  be." 
31 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


"  Your  grammar  is  faulty  I  M  fain  suggest," 

I  said  to  the  criminal  on  my  knees ; 
"  It  would  not  endure  the  least  critical  test ; " 
And  he  answered,  "Now  tell  me  a  'tory, 

p'ease." 

Now  what  could  I  do  ?  —  I  leave  it  to  you  — 
For  he 's  callous  in  guilt  as  the  worst  of  the 

lot, 
And    that    he   seems    hardened   is  dreadfully 

true  — 
So  I  told  him  the  story.   Now,  would  you  not  ? 

I  told  him  the  story,  and  then  I  said : 

"  You  're  a  hard,  hard  citizen,  one  can  see," 
And  he  answered,  "  I  be,"  and  then  he  pled  : 

"  Now  p'ease,  won't  oo  tell  'nuzzer  'tory  to 

me?" 
Oh,  I  guess  that  my  discipline  's  sadly  at  fault, 

For  I  told  him  a  story,  the  peace  to  keep, 
And  he  murmured  low,  when  I  seemed  to  halt : 

"Now  tell  me  anuzzer,"  then  went  to  sleep. 


32 


The  Land  of  the  Hushaby  King 


THE  LAND   OF  THE  HUSHABY 
KING 

OTT,  safely  afloat  in  a  wonderful  boat, 
From  over  the  Sundown  Sea, 
When  the   tide  swings  slow  and   the 

breeze  chants  low 
In  marvellous  minstrelsy, 
There  cometh,  there  cometh  the  Hushaby  King, 

And  dreams  are  the  elves  that  creep 
Close,  close  by  his  side  on  the  Sundown  tide, 
As  he  singeth  my  babe  to  sleep : 

"  By,    oh  !  —  by,    by,  —  we    shall    go    sailing, 

sailing  ; 
Swing  low,  swing  high,  over  the  Dream  Sea 

trailing, 
3  33 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


With  elves  of  the  Dreamland  about  us  a-wing." 
This  is  the  song  of  the  Hushaby  King. 

Oh,  little  blue  eyes,  the  stars  in  the  skies 
Of  the  Dreamland  are  strangely  aglow, 
And   the  inoon   is   the   queen   of  a  fairyland 

scene, 

To  watch  o'er  the  children  below ; 
And  your  boat  'mid  the  islands  swings  lazily 

o'er 

Where  the  mermaids  in  happiness  throng, 
And,  down  where  they  dwell,  'neath  the  surge 

and  the  swell, 
They  are  singing  a  lullaby  song : 

"  Sleep,  dear ;  sleep,  sleep,  rocked  on  the  rest- 
tide  billow ; 

While  near  creep,  creep,  elves  to  thy  downy 
pillow ; 

You  shall  be  soothed  by  the  flutter  of  wings." 

This  is  the  song  that  the  mermaiden  sings. 

Oh,  the  far-away  strand  of  the  Hushaby  Land 

Your  little  white  feet  shall  press, 
And  the  birds  of  the  air  shall  welcome  you 

there 

To  blisses  no  mortal  may  guess. 
34 


The  Land  of  the  Hushaby  King 

On  wonderful  trees  sliall  the  candy-fruit  grow  ; 

Plum  cake  to  the  bushes  shall  cling ; 
And  no  one  shall  cry,    "  Don't  touch  them ! 
My,  my!" 

For  the  dream-fairies  ever  will  sing : 

"  Yours  all,  yours,  dear ;  all  to  be  had  for  the 

taking ; 
Babes  small,  babes  queer,  just  give  the  trees  a 

good  shaking ; 

For  candy  in  Dreamland  's  a  very  good  thing." 
This  is  the  song  that  the  white  fairies  sing. 

Oh,  far-away  strand  of  the  Hushaby  Land, 

If  I  could  but  go,  could  go 
Where  my  baby  doth  float  in  the  Lullaby-boat ; 

If  I  could  her  rapture  know 
As  she  laughs  in  a  dream  that  comes  through 
the  night, 

A  dream  of  the  elfins  at  play  ! 
But  she  drifteth  from  me  o'er  the  Hushaby  Sea, 

And  aye  to  myself  I  say  : 

"By,   oh!  —  by,    by,  —  bonnie    one,    drifting, 

drifting ; 
Swing  low,  swing  high,  safe  on  the  sleep-tide 

shifting." 

35 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


And   my   heart    doth  reply,   though    closer   I 

cling : 
"  She    is    safe   in   the  arms   of  the   Hushaby 

King." 


36 


'  "1 

A  VERY  QUEER  UMBRELLA 

THIS  very  morn,  upon  the  street, 
A  big  umbrella  I  did  meet. 
At  first  I  thought  it  walked  alone, 
Though  such  a  thing  I  'd  never  known ; 
And  then  —  my  pencil  pardon  begs  — 
I  saw  it  walked  on  two  plump  legs. 
So  strange  a  sight  filled  me  with  awe, 
And  so  I  peeped  beneath  and  saw  — 
37 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Saw  two  bright  eyes  that  laughed  to  mine 
Saw  two  cheeks,  red  as  sun-born  wine ; 
A  tiny  mouth,  just  fit  to  kiss  ; 
Two  dimples,  Cupid's  home  of  bliss ; 
A  forehead  white,  with  locks  of  gold  — 
Ah,  I  am  sad  and  gray  and  old, 
And  much  I  wished  —  my  heart 's  so  lone 
That  queer  umbrella  were  my  own. 


38 


Fellow  Came  to  our  House 


FELLOW   CAME  TO  OUR  HOUSE 

FELLOW  came  to  our  house  and  said  he 
guessed  he  'd  stay  ; 
Dreadful  inconvenient  to  let  him  have 

his  way  — 

Had  no  room  for  boarders,  did  n't  have  a  bed  — 
Tried  to  argue  with  him,  and  this  is  what  I 
said: 


"  Hey,  there,  little  chap, 
Come  and  visit  me  ! 
Humpty-bumpty,  jumpty-dumpty 
On  your  father's  knee  ! 
39 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Have  you  made  arrangements 
To  pay  for  board  and  cheer  ? 

You  '11  find  them  unavailing, 

For  we  don't  take  boarders  here." 

But  though  my  argument  was  sound,  as  I  sub 
mit  to  you, 

I  think  he  meant  that  he  would  stay  when  he 
replied,  "  Goo-oo  ! " 

Fellow   came   to    our    house,  and    some   one 

talked  this  way : 
"''  He 's  such  a  itty-witty  that  I  guess  we  '11  let 

him  stay." 
I  could  n't  see  the  logic,  but  she  pressed  the 

tiny  head 

Still  closer  to  her  bosom,  and  this  is  what  she 
said : 

"Itty-bitty  felly! 

B'essed  baby  boy ! 
Come  to  b'ess  his  mamma, 
Come  to  b'ing  her  joy ! " 
And  then  a  tear  down-starting 
Her  loving  glances  blurred ; 
But  her  lips  kept  moving,  moving, 
Though  she  did  n't  say  a  word. 
40 


Fellow  Came  to  our  House 

And   I   knew  a  prayer  she  offered  —  and  an 

angel  heard  it,  too  ; 
But    the   baby  nestled  closer  and   only   said, 

"Goo-oo!" 


41 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


HOW   THE  BABIES   RIDE 


HERE  'S  the  way  the  babies  ride : 
High-low,  high-low, 
Sitting  their  papa's  foot  astride  — 
High-low,  high-low. 

First  they  go  up,  and  then  they  go  down, 
Shrieking  with  laughter,  their  fears  to  drown. 
Oh,  but  the  horse  deserves  renown  !  — 
High-low,  high-low. 

42 


How  the  Babies  Ride 


Here  'a  the  way  the  babies  ride  : 

By-low,  by-low, 
Floating  away  on  the  Dream  Sea  tide  — 

By-low,  by-low. 

Safe  where  the  Sleep-boat  lazily  swings, 
Dreaming  of  beautiful,  wonderful  things, 
Lulled  by  the  song  that  Somebody  sings : 
By-low,  by-low. 


43 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


O'ER  the  Sea  of  Dreams  to  the  sweet 
Dreamland  — 
Oh,  little  my  love,  come  hither,  T  pray, 
And  place  in  my  own  your  wee  white  hand, 

And  we  will  go  sailing  away,  away, 
Down  a  path  of  gold  by  the  Isles  of  Rest, 
O'er  the  slumbrous  depths  of  the  Sundown 

Sea, 

To  the  land  of  lands  that  we  love  the  best, 
Where  dream  angels  whisper  to  you  and  to 
me. 

44 


O'er  the  Sea  of  Dreams 


O'er  the  Sea  of  Dreams  —  Oh,  little  my  love, 

Closer  yet  creep  to  this  heart  of  mine, 
While  lowly  the  dream  angels  hover  above 

And  there  in  God's  meadows  the  star-blos 
soms  shine. 
Under  your  eyelids  the  visions  shall  creep  — 

Little  one,  little  one,  what  shall  they  be  ? 
Something  to  cause  you  to  smile  in  your  sleep, 

Nestling  yet  closer  and  closer  to  me. 


O'er  the  Sea  of  Dreams  to  the  sweet  Dream 
land  — 

Oh,  little  my  love,  what  dreams  they  must  be ! 
Such  dreams  as  a  baby  may  understand ; 

Queer  little  fancies,  as  all  must  agree ; 
Little  half  notions,  or  foolish  or  wise ; 

Wee  floating  fragments  of  babyhood  lore. 
These  are  your  dreams,  as  I  sagely  surmise  — 

Heigh-ho,  my  little  one,  what  are  mine  more  ? 


O'er  the  Sea  of  Dreams;  and  who's  at  the 

helm, 

Oh,  little  my  love,  nor  you  nor  I 
May  wisely  tell,  for  the  Sleep  King's  realm 
Is  hidden  by  mists  from  the  passers-by. 
45 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


It  is  hidden  by  mists,  yet  myself  I  tell, 

While    your   eyelids   flutter    like    petals   of 
white, 

The  One  who  is  guiding  will  guide  her  well  — 
So,  lit-tle  my  love,  good-night,  good-night. 


46 


The  Schoolgirl  that  I  Hated 


THE  SCHOOLGIRL  THAT  I   HATED 

SOMETIMES    when  memory  draws   the 
veil,  and  I  look  back  a  way 
To  where  the  sun  was  shining  in  my 

happy,  youthful  day, 
I  catch  the  scent  of  lilacs  as  they  blossomed  by 

our  door, 
And  I  hear  the  robins  chirping  as  they  used  to 

chirp  of  yore, 

And  the  oriole  is  flitting  like  a  ball  of  living  fire, 
And  the  river  's  sort  o'  whispering  just  as  though 

't  would  never  tire  ; 
And  then,   amid  the  faces  that  on  memory's 

screen  I  see, 

Comes  the  schoolgirl  that  I  hated  when  she  sat 
in  front  of  me. 

47 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Someway  I  see  her  plainly  now  in  scanty  dress 

of  blue, 
With  eyes  in  part  coquettish  and  in  part  serene 

and  true ; 
With  curls  that  liked  to  catch  the  light  and 

twist  it  in  and  out, 

And  lips  just  right  for  kissing,  if  they  were  in 
clined  to  pout. 
I  knew  that  she  was  pretty,  but  I  said  she  was 

no  good  — 
Though  I  could  n't  help  admiring  her ;  no  boy 

that 's  human  could  — 
But  she  made  up  faces  at  me,  and  she  could  a 

vixen  be, 
The  schoolgirl  that  I  hated  when  she  sat  in  front 

of  me. 

She  would  n't  play  at  marbles,  and  she  could  n't 

play  at  ball, 
And  I  often  intimated  that  she  was  no  good  at 

all. 
I  dropped  a  cricket  down  her  back  in  cheerful, 

boyish  way, 
And  she  yelled  first ;  then  I  yelled  next,  when 

teacher  was  to  pay. 
She  would  n't  "  coon  "  a  melon,  though  I  asked 

her  oftentimes, 

48 


The  Schoolgirl  that  I  Hated 


And  she  ridiculed  my  first  attempts  at  poor  and 

broken  rhymes. 
Oh,  she  was  a  thorough  failure,  as  any  boy  can 

see, 
The  schoolgirl  that  I  hated  when  she  sat  in  front 

of  me. 

She  beat  me  at  the  lessons  that  we  found  within 

our  books, 
And  when  she  went  above  me  all  scornful  were 

her  looks ; 
But  when  the  teacher  whipped  me  I  saw  her 

cry  one  day, 
And  I  said  that  "  girls  is  better 

than  what  some  fellers 

say ; " 
And  I  sort  of  half  forgave  her  for     '.1' 

her  lack  of  hardihood, 
Though  I  even  then  insisted  that 

she  really  was  no  good ; 
But  times  have  changed  since 

then,  for  I  —  I  'm  mar 
ried,  don't  you  see, 
To  the  schoolgirl  that  I  hated 

when  she  sat  in  front  of 

me. 


49 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


MY  ORFUL  CROSS-EYED  TEACHER 

ONE  time  I  had  a  teacher  —  I  've  had 
them  every  kind, 
But  this  partic'lar  teacher  was  dis- 
tractin'  to  my  mind. 
Of  course  all  sorts  of  teachers  is  disturbin'  to  a 

boy, 
For  they  're  always  interferin'  when  he  wants  to 

have  some  joy ; 
But  this  partic'lar  teacher  he  was  worser  than 

the  rest, 

For  there  wan't  no  way  of  figgerin'  on  the  im 
pulse  in  his  breast, 
An'  when  he  looked  mos'  pensive,  then  he'd 

light  upon  me  hot, 

My  orful  cross-eyed  teacher  what  I  never  have 
forgot. 

50 


My  Orful  Cross-eyed  Teacher 

There  wa'n't  no  way  accountin'  for  the  vag'ries 

of  that  man ; 
There  wa'n't  no  cunnin'  little  boy  could  quite 

foresee  his  plan. 
With  his  eyes  both  turned  on  heaven,  he  'd  seem 

about  to  pray, 
An'  then  you  'd   best  go  mighty  slow ;   he  'd 

prob'ly  come  your  way  ; 

An'  when  his  eyes  seemed  sot  an'  fixed  some 
where  about  his  toe, 
Then,  if  you  pinched  another  boy,  you  gen'ly 

stood  no  show, 
For  he  'd  prob'ly  land  upon  you,  or  he  would  as 

like  as  not, 
This  orful  cross-eyed  teacher  what  I  never  have 

forgot. 

One  time  that  I  remember,  I  remember  very 

well, 
I  wrote  a  note  to  Ethel  Moore,  my  longin'  love 

to  tell ; 
An'  the  teacher  he  was  gazin'  on  the  far-off, 

promised  land, 
So  I  fired  that  note  at  Ethel  —  well,  it  landed 

in  his  hand  ; 
An'  from  the  subsekent  events  I  smarted  fore 

an'  aft, 

51 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


An'  my  heart  it  also  smarted  when  I  noticed 

Ethel  laffed. 
Oh,  he  wrenched   my  young  affections  an'  he 

jarred  my  spine  a  lot, 
That  orful  cross-eyed  teacher  what  I  never  have 

forgot. 

I    throwed   a   wad    at    Charlie    Jones   when 

teacher's  eyes  was  cast 

Upon  a  hoss  an  wagon  that  jus'  then  the  win 
der  passed. 
Of  the  epersode  that  follered  I  am  still  ashamed 

to  tell, 
For  the  teacher  used  his  ruler,  an'  I  —  I  used 

a  yell. 
He  was  a  diserpointin'  chap,  that  pedergog,  I 

swear, 
An'  when  he  looked   straight  at  a  thing   he 

was  n't  lookin'  there. 
Because  of  him  my  youthful  days  was  triberla- 

tion-shot, 
This  orful  cross-eyed  teacher  what  I  never  have 

forgot. 

Oh,  good  an'  noble  little  boys  what  still   by 
school  are  vexed, 
52 


My  Orful  Cross-eyed  Teacher 

If  you  will  listen  to  my  words  I  '11  surely  put 

you  "  next," 
For  one  day  a  glad  discovery  sung  a  siren  song 

to  me : 
When  the  teacher  looked  right  at  me,  what  I 

did  he  did  n't  see. 
Oh,  good  an'  noble  little  boys  who  watch  the 

master's  nod, 
When  the  cross-eyed  teacher 's  lookin',  then  's 

the  time  to  fire  the  wad. 
This  grain  of  wisdom  garnered  served  to  cheer 

my  weary  lot 
With  the  orful  cross-eyed  teacher  what  I  never 

have  forgot. 


53 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


"I   LOVE  YOU  EACH  YEAR 
BETTER  " 

I'M  twelve  years  old  to-day,"  she  said, 
I  kissed  and  held  her  nearer, 
For  every  year  that  onward  fled 
Had  made  her  but  the  dearer. 
"  I  'in  growing  quite  a  girl,  you  see,"  — 

My  hand  reached  out  to  pet  her  — 
"  But  then,  you  know,  it  seems  to  me 
I  love  you  each  year  better." 
54 


"/  Love  You  Each  Year  Better" 

Now  tell  me,  you  who  sup  with  care 

As  time  grows  old  and  older, 
Could  lips  a  sweeter  message  bear 

When  hearts  with  age  turn  colder? 
So,  little  love,  my  soul  shall  pray, 

As  years  our  life-links  fetter, 
That  I  may  always  hear  you  say : 

"  I  love  you  each  year  better." 


55 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


HOW  THE  FLOWERS   GROW 

DO    you    know,   darling,    how    pansies 
grow? 
God   takes   the  tints   of  the  sunset 
glow, 

The  purple  that  floats  in  the  mountain  mist, 
The  blush  of  a  maid  by  her  love  first  kissed, 
The  blue  that 's  asleep  in  the  midday  skies, 
The  brown  that  I  love  in  my  baby's  eyes, 
And  He  mingles  them  all  in  a  flower  ;  and  so, 
That  is  the  way  that  the  pansies  grow. 

Do  you  know,  darling,  how  lilies  grow? 
God  takes  the  soul  of  the  beautiful  snow 
And  moulds  it  into  a  chalice  sweet, 
Pure  and  wonderful,  fair,  complete ; 
56 


How  the  Flowers  Grow 


Then  He  takes  the  gold  of  my  baby's  hair 
And  sets  it  amid  the  whiteness  there, 
As  in  night's  white  skies  the  bright  stars  glow; 
And  that  is  the  way  that  the  lilies  grow. 

Do  you  know,  darling,  how  roses  grow  ? 
Ah,  that  is  the  strangest  of  all,  I  know  ; 
For  they  are  the  fairest  of  all  things  fair, 
The  one  perfect  blossom,  beyond  compare ; 
Symbol  of  sweetness  and  all  loveliness  — 
God  wished  His  children  to  comfort  and  bless, 
And  He  wrote  the  thought  in  a  flower ;  and  so, 
That  is  the  way  that  the  roses  grow. 


57 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


MY  YOUTHFUL  PANTS 


COME   back,  come  back,  my  youthful 
pants ; 
Come  back,  come  back  to  me, 
For  nevermore  by  any  chance 

Your  equal  I  shall  see. 
My  mother  made  them  ;  I  recall 

How  wondrous  was  their  fit, 
For  I  was  some  six  sizes  small 
Into  the  things  to  "  git." 

She  made  them  out  of  father's  pants ; 
The  bosom  was  his  size. 
58 


My  Youthful  Pants 


The  sight  of  me  in  them  by  chance 

Would  fill  you  with  surprise. 
They  hung  straight  from  my  shoulder-blade 

In  folds  beyond  belief, 
And  when  the  eastern  zephyrs  played 

I  had  to  take  a  reef. 

And,  oh,  my  youthful  heart  would  swell 

Beneath  the  fearful  brunt 
Of  feeling  that  no  one  could  tell 

Which  side  I  wore  in  front. 
I  still  remember  T  would  use 

The  slack  in  carrying  chips, 
And  when  to  raise  it  I  did  choose 

My  face  was  in  eclipse. 

And  all  the  little  boys  I  met 

Would,  joyous,  'round  me  dance 
And  cry  in  tones  I  can't  forget : 
"Where  did  you  git  them\~ 

pants  ?  " 
Oh,  trousers  dear  of  long  ago ; 

Oh,  panties  wild  and  free, 
Where  you  have  gone  I  long 

to  know ! 

Come  back,  come   back  to 
me! 


59 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


HAVE  you  ever  heard  tell  of  Wonder 
Land, 
Of  the  dear  little,  queer  little,  comical 
band 

That  stumble  and  fumble  and  want  to  know 
Where  they  are  going  and  why  they  go  ? 
They  sit  in  our  laps  as  the  eve  grows  dark, 
And  they  take  the  shape  of  a  question  mark, 
For  all  that  is  written  in  face  or  eye 
Is  wholly  expressed  by  the  one  word,  "  Why  ? " 

"  Why  don't  the  sun  burn  up  some  day  ?  " 
"  Why  don't  we  fly,  as  the  birdies  do  ? " 
"  Why  don't  the  chickens  and  hens  eat  hay  ?  ' 
60 


"  Why  do  the  scissors  cut  things  in  two  ?  " 
Such  are  the  questions  of  Wonder  Land, 
Of  its  dear  little,  queer  little,  comical  band. 

These  are  the  people  of  Wonder  Land  : 

Queer  little  duffers  as  tall  as  your  stand. 

Wee  little  fellows  who  want  to  know 

More  than  the  wisest  can  tell,  I  trow ; 

For  the  world  is  so  big,  and  the  world  is  so 

strange ; 

Its  paths  are  so  hidden  as  onward  they  range, 
That  who  dares  to  wonder  —  't  is  surely  not  I  — 
They   look   in   amazement   while   questioning, 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Why  are  the  stars  put  out  in  the  day  ?  " 
"  Who  is  it  lights  them  when  night  comes 

down  ? " 

"  Why  don't  my  ma  have  whiskers,  I  say  ?  " 
"  Why  are  the  houses  all  built  in  town  ?  " 
These  are  the  things  they  cannot  understand, 
The  odd  little  people  of  Wonder  Land. 

Oh,  little  wee  people  of  Wonder  Land, 
There  's  one  thing  I  wish  you  could  understand  : 
We  folk  who  are  older  are  not  so  wise 
We  can  answer  the  questions  in  your  dear  eyes  ; 
61 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


For  really,  you  know  — it  is  certainly  true  — 
In  the  Country  of  Wonder  we  live  with  you  ; 
And  if  any  can  answer,  't  is  surely  not  I, 
For  T,  too,  am  lost  in  the  maze  of  "  Why  ?  " 

Why  have  I  come  from  the  mists  of  There  ? 

Why  am  I  lost  in  the  mists  of  Here  ? 
What  is  the  gain  in  the  burden  we  bear? 

What  is  the  end  that  is  glimmering  near  ? 
And  if  these  be  not  questions  of  Wonder  Land, 
The  difference,  my  bairnies,  I  don't  understand. 


62 


But  Two  Children 


BUT  TWO   CHILDREN 


THEY  grow  so  weary,  the  little  feet, 
With     their     day-long,     ceaseless 
hurry  ; 

So  when  there  coineth  the  even'  sweet 
When  we  bury  the  haunting  worry, 
She  patters  to  me,  and,  wistful  eyed, 

She  says :  "  I  am  finkin'  maybe 
You  '11  hold  me  to  s'eep,  an'  my  dolly  beside, 
Betause  I  am  just  oor  baby." 

Then  I  hold  her  a  time,  till  her  head  droops  low 

And  her  soul  creepeth  out  to  the  shadows ; 

63 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


And  she  and  her  dolly  together  do  go 

To  the  Dreamland's  star-flecked  meadows ; 

And,  holding  her  so,  I  am  glad  to  know 
She  is  safe  from  the  outside  weather ; 

And  sometimes  I  say  in  a  dreamy  way  : 
"  We  are  but  two  children  together." 

We  are  but  two  children.     At  even'  we 

Are  wearied  alike  by  the  hurry, 
And  we  long  for  the  rest  that  shall  set  us  free 

From  the  daytime's  care  and  worry. 
And  as  she  creeps  to  her  father's  arms, 

Still  holding  her  dolly  near  her, 
And  as  I  guard  her  from  all  alarms 

And  tenderly  soothe  and  cheer  her, 

So  do  I  turn,  though  I  hold  life's  toys 

Closer  and  closer  unto  me, 
To  the  One  who  heedeth  our  woes  and  joys 

For  rest  and  for  strength  to  renew  me ; 
And  as  my  darling  ne'er  pleads  in  vain, 

With  soft  baby  prattle,  "  Pease  hold  me," 
So  do  I  whisper,  through  toil  and  through  pain 

"  The  arms  of  His  love  do  enfold  me." 


MY   PA   AN'   MA 


MY  pa  he  is  the  wises'  man,  I  s'pose, 
you  ever  seen  ; 
He  knows  jus'  why  mos'  all  things 
is,  an'  knows  jus'  what  they  mean. 
He  knows  a  heap  more  than  my  ma,  'cause  he 's 

a  man,  you  see  ; 
He  ain't  a  woman  like  she  is,  though  tol'ble 

good  to  me ; 
6  65 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


But  when  I  ask  him  questions  'bout  the  things 

I  'd  like  to  know, 
He  sort  o'  scowls  at  me  at  firs',  an    then  he 

answers  so : 

"  Do  go  away  ! 

Don't  bother  me ! 
I  'in  busy  now  ! 

Say,  can't  you  see  ?  " 

But  when  I  ask  my  ma,  why,  then  she  allers 

ans'ers  me. 

I  'd  learn  a  sight  if  she  knew  things  almos'  as 
well  as  he. 

When  pa  an'  Mr.  Jones  sits  down  an'  talk  an 

hour  or  less, 
I  wish  the  Presiden'  could   hear:  he'd  learn 

some  things,  I  guess, 
'Bout  why  the  country  ain't  worth  shucks,  an' 

why  it  orto  be. 
My  pa  he  makes  them  things  so  clear  that  even 

I  can  see. 
He  proves  how  ever'thing  should  be,  an'  how 

it 's  all  amiss, 
But  when  I  ask  him  questions,  then  he  answers 

me  like  this : 

66 


"  Oh,  run  away, 

You  foolish  lad ! 
Questions  like  yours 

Will  drive  me  mad  ! " 

But  ma,  she  tells  me  all  she  knows,  an'  that 

much  has  to  go. 
I  wish  she  knew  as  much  as  pa,  fer  then  I  judge 

I  'd  know. 

An'  yet  my  questions  all  is  'bout  the  things  boys 

like  to  know. 
I  asked  him  once,  I  recollec',  why  things  I  drop 

don't  go 
Up  in  the  air  instead  of  down,  the  way  they 

alters  do ; 
An'  once  I  asked  if  God  gits  tired  of  holdin' 

office,  too, 
The  way  men  never  does,  pa  says.     I  ask  such 

things  as  these, 
But  pa,  he  scowls  an'  says,  although  I  ask  him 

with  a  "  please  : " 

"  Oh,  run  away  ! "  — 
An'  then  I  'in  fired  — 

"  Questions  like  yours 
Do  make  me  tired ! " 
67 


Lays°for  Little  Chaps 


But  ma,  she  ans'ers  all  she  can,  an'  holds  me  to 

her  breast. 
I  guess  my  pa  does  know  the  mos',  but  ma,  she 

loves  me  best. 


68 


The  Mournful  Tale  of  the  Snee  Zee  Familee 


THE  MOURNFUL  TALE  OF  THE 
SNEE  ZEE  FAMILEE 

THERE  was  a  little  yellow  man  whose 
name  it  was  Ah  Cheu, 
And  every  time  that  Mongol  sneezed 
he  told  his  name  to  you. 
This  funny  little  yellow  man  had  wedded  Tish 

Ah  Chee, 

And  they,  when  certain  time  had  passed,  had 
children  one,  two,  three. 
There  was  little  Ah  Cheu 
And  Tish  Ah  Tsu, 

And  the  baby  was  named  Ker  Chee, 
And  their  Uncle  Ker  Chawl 
And  his  wife  were  all 
69 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Of  the  Snee  Zee  fam-i-lee, 
And  when  the  mama  stood  and  called  her  cliil- 

dren  from  the  door, 
You  would  laugh  and  laugh  for  an  hour  and  a 

half  if  never  you  laughed  before. 
"  Ah   Cheu,"  she  'd  say  in  her  feminine  way, 

"  bring  in  the  little  Ker  Chee, 
And   Tish  Ah  Tsu,  bring  him  in,  too,  to  the 

Snee  Zee  fam-i-lee." 


Alas  and  alack  !  but  my  voice  will  crack  as  the 

mournful  tale  I  tell. 
To  that  sweet  little  band  in  the  Mongol  land  a 

terrible  fate  befell. 
On  a  summer  day  in  a  sportive  way  they  called 

one  another  all, 

And  over  and  o'er  the  names  they  bore  they 
would  call  and  call  and  call. 
They  called  Ah  Cheu 
And  Tish  Ah  Tsu 

And  the  baby  Ker  Chee,  Ker  Chee, 
And  their  Uncle  Ker  Chawl, 
They  called  them  all, 
Till  they  're  dead  as  the  dead  can  be. 
Ah  Cheu  was  tough,  and  was  used  to  snuff,  so 
he  lived  at  his  fate  to  scoff, 
70 


The  Mournful  Tale  of  the  Snee  Zee  Familee 

But  the  rest  are  dead,  as  I  've  heretofore  said, 
for  their  heads  they  were  all  sneezed  oft'. 

And  this  is  the  tale  I  have  tried  to  wail  of  Ah 
Cheu  and  his  little  Ker  Chee 

And  Tish  Ah  Tsu  and  Ah  Chee,  too,  of  the  Snee 
Zee  fam-i-lee. 


71 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


c 


"I'M   PRAYING  FOR  YOU" 


THERE  'S  a  quaint  little  letter  that  lies 
on  my  stand, 
A  quaint  little  letter  in  old-fashioned 
hand. 

It  is  lacking  somewhat  in  rhetorical  grace, 
And  its  capital  letters  at  times  lose  their  place. 
It  scarcely  would  bear  the  most  critical  test ; 
Yet  of  all  correspondence  I  hold  it  the  best, 
For  it  ends  —  ah,  in   love  it  was  written  all 

through : 

"  Remember,  my  boy,  that  I  'm  praying  for  you." 
72 


"7'w  Praying  for  You" 


"  Remember,  my  boy  "  —  Oli,  an  old  boy  am  I, 
With  a  head  that  shines  back  to  the  laugh  of 

the  sky, 

But  to  her  I  'm  "  my  boy,"  and  I  always  will  be 
Till  the  white  angel  steps  'twixt  my  mother  and 

me, 

And  longer ;  the  love  that  has  guarded  my  way 
I  know  will  not  cease  at  the  close  of  the  day, 
But  will  whisper   me   still    from   the   infinite 

blue : 
"  Remember,  my    boy,  that   I  'm    praying  for 

you." 


"I'm  praying  for  you "  —  God  knows  we  all 

need 
That  some  heart  of  love  to  the  Father  shall 

plead, 
For  our  feet  will  but  stumble  on  life's  weary 

way, 

And  we  frequently  find  that  we  're  sadly  astray. 
We  say  to  our  spirits,  "  Be  brave  and  press  on," 
But  the  spirit  will  faint,  and  the  soul  will  grow 

wan ; 
And  then  comes  the  message,  our  strength  to 

renew : 

"  Remember,  my  boy,  that  I  'm  praying  for  you." 
73 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Remember !  Oh,  mother,  I  could  not  forget ; 
Still  the  dear,  loving  message  my  lashes  will 

wet, 

As  I  read  it  here  written  in  old-fashioned  hand 
In  the  quaint  little  letter  that  lies  on  my  stand  ; 
And  in  fancy  I  see  you,  as  often  of  old, 
When  love  kissed  your  face  into  beauty  untold, 
As  you  knelt  by  rny  cot  —  With  eyes  strangely 

dim, 
Your   boy  does  remember   you're   praying  for 

him. 


74 


The  Loving  Mother 


THE   LOVING   MOTHER 


SHE  had  been  a  loving  mother  and  a  very 
faithful  wife ; 
She  had  reared  their  seven  children  and 

had  fitted  them  for  life, 
And  through  all  their  days  of  childhood  she  had 

taken  little  ease, 

For  whene'er  she  thought  of  resting,  it  was, 
"  Mother,  won't  you  please  — 
75 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


"  Won't  you  please  to  fix  my  bonnet  ? " 
"  I  say,  mother,  where  's  my  hat  ? " 

"  Put  this  piece  of  ribbon  on  it." 

"  Won't  you  fix  my  doll  like  that  ?  " 

So,   from   six   o'clock   of   mornings   until   ten 

o'clock  at  night, 
She  hurried,  as  though  resting  were  a  thing  that 

was  n't  right ; 
And  they  said,  the  while  she  wearied  in  the 

ceaseless  toil  and  strife : 
"  She  is  such  a  loving  mother,  and  she 's  such  a 

faithful  wife ! " 

Of  course  they  loved  her  greatly,  as  bairns  and 
husband  should ; 

As  she  grew  thin  with  slaving  they  would  mur 
mur,  "  She  's  so  good !  " 

But  when,  at  times,  a  moment  just  for  rest  she 
fain  would  seize, 

(Of  course  they  were  but  thoughtless)  it  was, 
"  Mother,  won't  you  please  — 

"  Won't  you  mend  this  hole?  It 's  shocking." 
"  T  say,  Sarah,  where 's  that  pail  ? " 

"  Won't  you  please  to  fix  this  stocking  ?  " 
"  Can't  you  make  my  boat  a  sail  ?  " 
76 


The  Loving  Mother 


And  so,  by  mending,  cooking,  and  a  thousand 

labors  pressed, 
She  never  quite  could  find  the  time  to  take  the 

needed  rest. 
But  e'er,  as  she  grew  thinner  in  the  constant  toil 

of  life, 
They  said :  "  She 's  such  a  mother,  and  she  's 

such  a  faithful  wife  !  " 

One  day  this  little  woman  felt  sadly  worn  and 

tired ; 
She  could  n't  labor  for  the  rest,  although  she 

still  desired. 
They  bore  her  tenderly  to  bed ;  she  weakened 

by  degrees, 
And  the  house  seemed  half  deserted  with  no 

"  Mother,  won't  you  please  — 

"  Won't  you  please  ?  "  —  The  words  unspoken 

Yet  she  heard  in  fitful  dreams, 
As  they  knew  by  many  a  token, 

By  the  fever's  prattled  themes, 

Till  one  morn  the  great  white  angel  took  her 

gently  to  his  breast, 
Whispering  softly,  "  You  have  labored.     Lo,  I 

give  to  you  my  rest." 

77 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Once  she  sighed,  "How  will  they  —  manage?" 

Then  she  faded  out  of  life. 
She  was  such  a  loving  mother  and  was  such  a 

faithful  wife. 


Sometimes  I  close  my  eyes  and  try  to  dream  of 

her  at  rest, 
And  finding  life  is  easy  in  the  country  of  the 

blest ; 
But  it 's  difficult  to  fancy,  for  in  those  white 

courts  of  ease 
Ofttimes,  I  judge,  in  dreams  she  hears,  "  Now, 

mother,  won't  you  please  — 
78 


The  Loving  Mother 


"  Won't  you  step  down  here  a  minute; 

They  can  spare  you  up  that  way  ? 
Here 's  this  work  ;  I  can't  begin  it  — 

I  am  needing  you  to-day." 

Then,  perhaps,  she  starts,  and  whispers  to  some 

angel  fair  and  white  : 
"  Oh,  this  resting 's  pleasant,  pleasant ;   it  is 

sweet,  but  is  it —  right  ?  " 
For  how  can  she  in  a  moment  break  the  habit 

of  a  life  ?  — 
She  was  such  a  loving  mother  and  was  such  a 

faithful  wife. 


79 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


THE  DESPOT  KINGS 


DO  you  know  of  the  Despot  Kings  that 
stray 
Out  of  the  Land  of  the  Far- Away 
Into  the  Country  of  Now  and  Here, 
Despots  and  tyrants  all,  but  dear? 
Do  you  know  the  blink  that  means,  "  Obey  ! " 
And  the  midnight  clamor  that  brings  dismay 
To  the  subjects  forlorn,  who  natheless  spring 
To  do  the  will  of  the  Despot  King  ? 

Bundle  of  wriggles  and  wails  and  twists  ; 

Vacant  of  face  and  eye  ; 
Helplessly  beating  with  Lilliput  fists  — 

Who  doth  the  Kings  defy  ? 
80 


The  Despot  Kings 


Once  I  was  fief  to  a  Despot  King, 

And    my    heart   bowed   down   like   a   broken 

thing, 
For  he  ordered  me  out  when   the  night  was 

chill, 
And  I  said,  "  I  will  not ; "  and  he  said,  "  You 

will!"  — 

Oh,  spare  me  the  tale  that  is  old,  so  old, 
For  ever  and  aye  till  the  stars  grow  cold 
The  children  of  men  must  tribute  bring 
To  the  midnight  throne  of  a  Despot  King. 

Scanty  in  wisdom  and  strong  of  lung  ; 

Living  to  sleep  and  cry ; 
Standing  the  pygmies  and  elves  among  — 

Who  doth  the  Kings  defy  ? 

Once  I  was  fief  to  a  Despot  King, 

But  the  hours  and  the  Seasons  onward  swing ; 

And  out  of  my  life  he  passed  one  day, 

And  the  world  was  dark,  and  its  skies  were 

gray; 

And  now  at  the  last  I  know  full  well 
That  all  of  peace  for  my  soul  did  dwell 
In  the  baby  voice  that  made  me  spring 
To  do  his  bidding,  my  Despot  King. 
6  81 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Fair  as  a  lily ;  white  and  wee  ; 

Holding  my  heart  in  thrall ; 
Oh,  ghosts  of  the  long  dead  years,  to  me 

My  Despot  King  recall. 


82 


/  Wish  I  Was  an  Engineer 


I  WISH  I  was  an  engineer.     I  guess  I  'd 
like  to  stand 
In  the  cabin  of  an  engine,  with  a  thing 
umbob  in  hand, 
And  when  I  'd  pull  that  thingumbob  the  engine 

then  would  go 
Out,  out  into  the  night-time  when  the  stars  is 

hangin'  low ; 

I  'd  see  the  lights  of  houses  goin'  gleamin'  gleam- 
in'  past, 

83 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Like    a    last-campaign    percession   when    it 's 

walkin'  middliu'  fast; 
And  then  I  'd  pull  the  whistle-string  an'  hear 

the  engine  say : 
"Hey,  there!  you  little  mites  of  men,  you'd 

better  clear  the  way  !  " 
I  would  n't  mind  just  loads  of  black  upon  my 

face  and  clothes 
If  I  could  be  an  engineer,  the  land  o'  goodness 

knows ! 

I  wish  I  was  an  engineer.     Then  boys  would 

look  at  me, 
An'  say :  "  Hey,  Jimmy,  here  's  de  chap  wot 

runs  de  engine.     See !  " 
An'  then  I  'd  pull  the  whistle-string  an'  never 

smile  a  bit 
When   that   big  noise  would   scare  the   boys 

almost  into  a  fit, 
Because  I  'd  know,  as  engineers,  I  guess,  'most 

always  do, 
That  if  a  noise  scares  little  boys,  they  're  apt  to 

like  it,  too. 
Just  whiskin'  through  a  hundred  towns,  straight 

onward  hour  by  hour, 
While  all  the  time  the  ceaseless  "  chug  "  beats 

out  the  Song  of  Power ; 
84 


I  Wish  I  Was  an  Engineer 

Oh,  you  will  talk  admirin'  of  your  Kings  and 

Czars,  maybe  — 
To  be  an  engineer,  you  bet !  were  good  enough 

for  me. 


I  wish  I  was  an  engineer,  to  sit  there  like  a 

Turk 
An'  smile  to  see  the  fireman  sweat  while  doin' 

of  the  work. 
I  s'pose  that  Emp'rers  has  a  snap,  to  which,  of 

course,  they  're  born, 
But  if  I  was  an  engineer  I  'd   look  on  them 

with  scorn. 
Just  sittin'  in  my  cab  up  there  and  listenin'  all 

the  time 

85 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Unto    the    constant    "  chug-chug-chug,"    that 

ceaseless,  mighty  rhyme, 
And  knowin'  that  a  hundred  lives  was  trusted 

unto  me, 
I  guess  I  'd  feel  a  sense  of  power ;  I  'd  catch  the 

music's  key 
And   hear  it  singin'  in  my  soul  as  down  the 

world  I  'd  go, 
If  I   were   but  an  engineer —     But,  then,  I 

ain't,  you  know. 


86 


It 's  Hard  to  Say 


IT'S  HARD 
TO  SAY 


I  MISS  the  patter-patter 
Of  the  tiny  little  feet ; 
I  miss  the  prattled  chatter ; 
I  miss  the  kisses  sweet. 
But  I  guess  that  Heaven  's  lighter 

For  the  babe  I  laid  to  rest, 
And  some  angel's  face  is  brighter 
As  she  holds  her  to  her  breast. 

I  knew  not  how  to  spare  her ; 

E'en  yet  my  heart  is  numb, 
For  life  held  nothing  fairer  — 

Oh,  wayward  tears  that  come, 
Perhaps  the  Father  sought  her 

For  His  own  home  of  light 
Because  He  felt  without  her 

No  Heaven  were  perfect,  quite. 
87 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Sometimes  from  life's  long  battle 

I  turn,  and  sit  a  while, 
And  seem  to  hear  her  prattle 

And  see  my  darling's  smile. 
And  then  I  say,  "  It 's  better. 

She  missed  the  weary  fray 
And  Worry's  chain  and  fetter  ; " 

But,  oh,  it 's  hard  to  say. 


It 's  hard  to  say,  for  ever 

My  heart  will  listen  still 
For  prattle  sounding  never, 

For  baby  laughter's  trill  : 
And  where  the  shadows  gather 

I  look  to  see  her  stand  — 
My  darling  with  the  Father  — 

And  reaeh  to  take  her  hand. 

I  guess  that  Heaven  's  fairer 
Because  my  babe  is  there, 

But,  oh,  this  life  is  barer, 
With  naught  to  lighten  care. 
88 


It 's  Hard  to  Say 


I  try  to  say,  "  It 's  better," 
But,  though  my  lips  obey, 

They  speak  but  form  and  letter, 
For,  oh,  it 's  hard  to  say. 


89 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


A  LITTLE, 
LITTLE  FELLOW 


THERE 'S  a  little,  little  fellow,  and  he 's 
really  very  small, 
For  he  measures  by  my  table  and  he 
is  n't  quite  so  tall ; 
And   this   little,  little   fellow   in    the   evening 

seeks  my  knees, 
And  he  says:  "  Now  won't  oo  tell  me  jus'  the 

nicest  'tories,  p'ease  ?  " 
And  then  I  tell  him  stories  that   I  wouldn't 

dare  to  say 
Are  of  the  usual  run  of  things  we  meet  on 

every  day; 
And  the   last  thing  that  he  asks  me  is,  with 

story-telling  through, 

"  Now   does   oo  'pose   when  I  'in   growed   up 
I  '11  know  as  much  as  oo  ?  " 
90 


A  Little,  Little  Fellow 


Oh,  little,  little  fellow,  who  sit  upon  ray  knee, 

I  know  how  all  misplaced  is  this,  the  faith  you 
rest  in  me. 

My  wisdom  is  a  fiction,  and  my  stock  of  knowl 
edge  small ; 

Like  you,  I  guess  the  Father  knows,  and  He  is 
over  all. 

I  stumble  on  the  journey,  and  I  falter  as  I  go, 

And  where  the  days  shall  lead  me,  I  never, 
never  know. 

But,  though  I'm  all  unworthy  of  your  faith,  it 
cheers  me,  too, 

With  <l  Does  oo  'pose,  when  I  'm  growed  up, 
I  '11  know  as  much  as  oo  ?  " 


Oh,  little,  little  fellow,  I  really  hope  you  will. 

I  want  to  feel  when  I  leave  off  you  '11  be  ad 
vancing  still ; 

And  if  sometimes  I  half  have  seen  a  light  be 
yond  the  mist, 

I  trust  that  by  its  purest   rays  your  pathway 
may  be  kissed. 

But,  whatsoe'er  the  years  may  bring,  and  what 
soe'er  their  lore, 

Someway  I  'm  hoping  here  to-night,  as  I  have 
hoped  before, 

91 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


That  you  may  keep  some  part,  at  least,  of  faith 

in  me  you  knew 
When  oft  you  asked  if"  When  I  'm  growed  I  Ml 

know  as  much  as  oo." 


92 


The  Baby's  Faith 


THE   BABY'S   FAITH 


WE  stood  the  other  night  before 
The  little  cottage  that  is  home. 
I  listened  to  her  baby  lore 
About  the  stars  in  yonder  dome. 
'T  was  baby  prattle,  yet  I  guess 

Perhaps  she  knows  as  much  as  I  - 
This  side  she  knows  a  little  less, 
But  more  of  things  beyond  the  sky. 

Then,  while  she  prattled  on,  a  star 

A-sudden  gleamed  adown  the  world, 
As  if  some  angel  from  afar 

A  lance  of  flame  had  earthward  hurled ; 
And  baby  looked,  with  sagest  nod, 

As  if  to  say :  "  I  see  —  I  see  ;  " 
Then  smiling  said :  "  I  dess  'at  Dod 

Is  frowin'  stars  down  here  to  me." 
93 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


And  then  she  paused.     A  mighty  thought 

Was  struggling  in  her  baby  mind: 
Suppose  such  fusillade  were  fraught 

With  danger,  as  she  half  opined, 
What  then  ?  what  then  ?   At  this  "  suppose  " 

The  blue  eyes  wide  and  wider  grew  ; 
Then  faith  spoke  out :  "  I  dess  Dod  knows 

He  won't  hurt  baby  —  now  don't  'oo  ? " 

Oh,  little  one,  my  little  one, 

Give  me  the  faith  so  wholly  thine. 
When  life's  skies  darken  and  the  sun 
Is  hidden  from  this  soul  of  mine, 
And  when  God's  missiles  from  His 

sky 

Rain  on  my  life-path,  blazing,  all, 
Let  faith  to  doubting  then  reply  : 
"  No  harm  from  Him  shall  e'er  befall." 

And  little  one,  my  little  one, 

If  this  sweet  faith  may  ne'er  be  mine ; 
If  still  through  fog  of  doubt  I  run 

And  fear  to  trust  the  love  divine, 
Yet  none  the  less  for  you  I  pray  — 

The  heart  speaks,  though  the  lips  be  dumb  — 
That  Faith  through  all  life's  strife  may  say : 

"  From  Him,  from  Him  no  harm  shall  come." 


94 


When  Brother  Stiggins   Come   to  Tea 


WHEN   BROTHER  STIGGINS  COME 
TO  TEA 

WHEN  Brother  Stiggins  come  to  cull, 
he  gen'ly  stayed  to  tea ; 
An'  ma  would  wash  our  faces  all,  an' 
frequen'ly  spank  me, 
An'  then  she  'd  say, "  You  mus'  be  good,  an'  set 

still  in  your  cheer, 
An'  not  ask  twice  fer  things  to  eat  when  Brother 

Stiggins 's  here." 
An'  then  we  'd  go  to  table,  an'  the  parson,  he  'd 

ask  grace, 

An'  'bout  that  time  my  brother,  he  would  make 
an  orful  face  ; 

95 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Then  I  M  jus'  snicker,  an'  my  ma  —  you  ort  her 

look  to  see, 
When  Brother  Stiggins  come  to  call,  an'  when 

he  stayed  to  tea. 

I  s'pose  the  grace  he  allers  said  wus  full  ten 

minutes  long, 
An'  all  the  time  his  voice  would  sound  a  good 

deal  like  a  song. 
He  'd  ask  the  Lord  to  kindly  heed  the  heathen 

in  distress 
Who  can't  git  chicken-pie  like  ours,  an'  other 

things  that  bless. 
An'  then  he'd  say:  "  Eft  ain't  too  much,  jus' 

bless  our  Congress,  too  ; 
We  know,  dear  Lord,  there  ain't  a  thing  that 

You  hain't  power  to  do ; 
An'  bless  us  common  folks  — "  An'  then  my 

brother,  he  'd  hunch  me, 
An'  'neath  the  table  we  would  fight,  when  he 

had  come  to  tea. 

An'  then  he  'd  say :  "  Dear  Lord,  forgive  these 

wicked  little  boys 
Who  seem  possessed,  by  Satan's  power,  to  make 

a  dretful  noise. 

96 


When  Brother   Stiggins   Come  to   Tea 

Oh,  let  them  not  go  down  in  wrath  to  wicked 
ness  an'  sin, 

An'  'specially,  dear  Lord,  forgive  the  one  that 
kicked  my  shin." 

An'  when  that  grace  wus  ended,  then  my  ma 
would  leave  her  place, 

An'  say, "  Excuse  me  w'ile  I  'tend  to  these  here 
younguns'  case." 

An'  then  she  'd  take  us  to  the  shed,  my  brother 
Joe  an'  me, 

An'  argue  with  us  with  a  strap,  when  he  had 
come  to  tea. 


I  don't  blame  ma ;  I  never  did.    We  'd  act  like 

all  possessed  ; 
An'   course  it 's   wrong  to  make  a  row  when 

things  is  bein'  blessed ; 
An,'  too,  it 's  right  to  ask  a  grace,  fer  grace  is 

what  we  need 
To  git  along  with  folks  we  meet  an'  not  run  all 

to  seed. 
But,   still,  consid'rin'  that  us  boys  wus  pretty 

middlin'  young, 
An*  seein'  that  the  parson's  prayer  wus  mighty 

nearly  sung, 

?  97 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


I  now  contend,  an'  allers  shall,  although  per 
haps  I  'm  wrong, 

When  Brother  Stiggins  come  to  tea  his  grace 
wus  too  blamed  long. 


Her  Faith  Never  Falters 


MY  little  daughter  comes  to  me, 
And  whispers,  "  I  am  sorry  ;  " 
And  I  —  I  take  her  on  my  knee 
And  tell  her  not  to  worry ; 
And  then  I  kiss  her,  and  she  knows 

How  tenderly  I  love  her. 
We  're  just  two  children,  I  suppose  ; 
I  not  a  whit  above  her. 

And  then  she  lays  her  cheek  to  mine, 

And  says,  "  I  love  you  dearly ;  " 
And  in  my  eyes  the  teardrops  shine  — 

My  heart  will  act  so  queerly. 
She  says,  "  My  papa  is  so  good," 

Though  I  'in  unworthy  of  her. 
Dear  little  type  of  maidenhood, 

I  love  her,  oh,  I  love  her. 
99 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


I  think  sometimes  I  VI  like  to  go 

And  tell  her,  "  I  am  sorry," 
For,  oh,  my  feet  do  falter  so 

'Mid  life's  unending  worry. 
Dear,  loyal  heart !  Suppose  I  should, 

(I  have  done  so — or  nearly) 
She  'd  only  say :  "  My  papa 's  good. 

I  love  him,  oh,  so  dearly." 

So,  'mid  the  storm  of  life  and  years, 

My  little  daughter's  kisses 
And  loyal  faith  have  dried  my  tears, 

And  cares  exchanged  for  blisses. 
And,  as  I  write,  if  tears  will  start, 

They  're  tears  of  gladness  merely, 
For  these  words  bless  my  weary  heart 
"  I  love  my  papa  dearly.' 


100 


MOTHER  used  to  come  ami  say : 
"  Come  little  boy ;  it 's  time  to  rise. 
Wake  right  up  without  delay ; 
Shake  yourself,  and  rub  your  eyes." 
An'    I'd   say:    "Huh!    Wha— Ye-e-es,"   and 

then  — 
Go  right  off  to  sleep  again. 

Soon  she'd  come  again  and  say, 

Just  as  gently  as  before : 
"  Wake,  and  see  this  lovely  day. 

Don't  go  to  sleep,  dear,  any  more." 
An'  I  'd  say :  "Yes  —  I  'm  —  coming; "  then — 

Go  right  off  to  sleep  again. 
101 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Did  n't  matter  though  ;  no  less 

Patient,  gentle,  kind  was  she 
When  she  came  and  said  :  "  I  guess 

My  little  boy  asleep  must  be." 
An'  I  said :  "  I  '11  —  get  —  up,"  and  then  — 

Went  right  off  to  sleep  again. 

Then  my  father  came  to  call. 

'T  was  but  little  that  he  said  ; 
Just  one  word,  and  that  was  all, 

Just  one  word,  and  that,  "  A\-fred  !" 
Just  one  word,  you  see,  but  then  — 

I  did  n't  go  to  sleep  again. 

Just    that    difference ! 

But,  you  see, 
I  Ve  been   thinking, 

here  alone, 
Could  my  mother  now 

call  me 
In  the  gentle,  loving 

tone 
Of  the  past,  I  'd  wake, 

and  then  — 

I    would  n't    go    to 

sleep  again. 


102 


THE  SONG  OF  SONGS 

WRITE  me  a  song,"  said  the  Master, 
"  that  shall  ring  through  the  halls 
of  time ; 
A  song  that  shall  thrill  my  children  and  urge 

them  to  deeds  sublime." 
So  the  poet  touched  his  wonderful  harp  and 

sung  in  a  minor  key 
How  out  of  Earth's  care,  and  its  travail,  the 

soul  rises  pure  and  free  ; 
How  under  the  face  of  laughter  there  throbbeth 

the  heart  of  pain, 
Yet   he    who   doth    battle   and   conquer,   the 

heights  of  the  blest  shall  gain. 
He  sang  of  the  lesson  of  sorrow,  the  meaning 
of  trouble  and  tears, 
103 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


And  the  guerdon  that  conies  to  the   faithful 

after  the  strife  of  years. 
But  the  Master  stood  unmoved. 

Then  the  poet  struck  his  harp  again,  a  wild, 

triumphant  lay 
That  told  of  the  nations'  battles,  their  ceaseless 

strife  and  fray ; 
And   through  it  one  saw  the  armies  as  they 

marched  and  countermarched, 
And  heard  the  groans  of  the  dying,  the  gurgle 

from  lips  pain-parched. 
Then  he  told  in  a  sweeter,  gentler  strain  that 

ravished  the  listening  ear 
How  the  dear  God  loves  His  children,  and  cares 

for  their  struggles  here, 
And  how  He  will  guide  and  lead  them,  after 

the  toil  and  strife, 

Gently,  oh,  gently  upward  to  the   wonderful 
'  Hills  of  Life. 
But  the  Master  stood  unmoved. 

Then  the  poet's  soul  was  weary,  and  he  sung 

of  the  brood  of  care 
Who  dwell  in  the  haunts  and  purlieus,  with 

Want  as  a  spectre  there ; 
104 


The  Song  of  Songs 


And   the  song   that   he   sang    was  tragie ;   it 
sobbed  with  a  chord  of  pain 

For  the  haunted,  the  starved,  the  weary,  whose 
tears  fall  down  like  rain  ; 

And  under  the  throbbing  music  was  a  male 
diction  heard 

For  those  who  have  wronged  His  children,  and 
eyes  with  tear-drops  blurred. 

There  was  loathing  and  stern  abhorrence   for 
these,  the  favored  few, 

Who  heed  not  the  old,  old  message  :  Do  as 

ye  'd  have  them  do. 
But  the  Master  stood  unmoved. 


And  then  through  the  open  doorway  stole  the 

sound  of  a  childish  voice, 
Ringing  in  happy  laughter,  making  the   soul 

rejoice, 
And  the  poet  caught  its  music,  for  the  laughter 

was  dear  to  him, 
And  his  heart  breathed  out  its  story,  though 

his  eyes  with  tears  were  dim  ; 
And,  oh,  the  wonderful  music  !     It  reached  to 

the  blue  sky's  dome, 
Telling  of  peace  and  gladness  in  the  beautiful 

Land  of  Home, 

105 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Of  the  dear  little  feet  that  patter,  of  the  lips 

that  our  own  caress  — 
For  the  poet  forgot  his  heartache    when  his 

little  one  came  to  bless. 
And  the  Master's  eyes  were  dim. 


106 


A  Song  for  the  Babies 


A  SONG  FOR  THE  BABIES 


NOW  here  is  a  song  for  the  babies,  who 
Are  dreadfully  puzzled  just  what  to 
do 

With  their  ten  little  fingers  and  ten  little  toes, 
Their  two  little  ears,  and  their  one  little  nose, 
And  their  queer  little  mouth,  down  under  their 

eyes, 
Which  they  open  to  laugh,  and  straightway  it 

cries, 
To   the   total   surprise,   and   the   wonder  and 

doubt 

Of  the  wee  little  babies  I  'm  singing  about. 
107 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


A  song  for  the  babies  who  lie  and  blink, 
And  really  imagine  they  're  trying  to  think, 
Thinking  of  things  they  can't  understand, 
Of  why  they  can't  eat  each  chubby,  fat  hand  ; 
For  they  eat  it,  and  eat  it  —  it  cuts  such  a 

"figger"- 
And  the  more  that  they  eat  it,  the  more  it 

grows  bigger ; 

And  this  is  enough,  past  a  question  or  doubt, 
To  puzzle  the  babies  I  'm  singing  about. 


A  song  for  the  babies  who  laugh  and  coo 
As  only  a  baby  knows  how  to  do, 
And  they  talk  in  a  language  none  understand 
Save  those  who  have  travelled  in  Babyland  ; 
And  the  ones  who  have  travelled,  the  babies 

know, 

Are  only  the  mammas  who  love  them  so  ; 
Though  sometimes  a  papa  can  half  make  out 
The  coo  of  the  babies  I  'm  singing  about. 


A  song  for  the  babies  —  God  bless  them  all, 
So  pitiful  helpless,  so  daintily  small ; 
Who  only  can  wonder  what  all  is  about, 
The  hurry  and  bustle,  the  worry  and  doubt ; 
108 


A  Song  for  the  Babies 


Who  only  can  wonder,  and  never  can  know 
Till  dawnlight  has  faded  and  morning  dews  go. 
The   babies,   whose   laughter   sets   trouble   to 

rout  — 
God  bless  the  wee  babies  I  'm  singing  about. 


109 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


t 


THE  LITTLE  BOY  WHO   SAW  SANTA 
OLAUS 


THE  chimney  was  so  narrow,  and  the 
chimney  was  so  small, 
And  Santa  Glaus  had  grown  so  fat 
through  summer  and  the  fall, 
That  when  he  brought  his  Christmas  pack  to 

give  the  youngsters  cheer 
He  just  looked  at  that  chimney,  and  he  said : 
"  Oh,  dear  !  Oh,  dear !  " 
110 


The  Little  Boy  who  saw  Santa  Glaus 

And  little  Willie  Wiggins,  who  was  listening 

in  his  bed, 
Was   very  sorely  troubled  for  he  heard  what 

Santa  said, 
Till   a  pleasant   thought  came  to  him,  and  a 

happy  smile  he  wore 
As  he  said :  "  I  guess  I  '11  'vite  him  if  he  won't 

come  in  the  door." 


So  little  Willie  Wiggins,  in  his  little  nightdress, 

crept 
From  out  the  cosy  nest  in  bed  where  mamma 

thought  he  slept ; 
And  the   little  bare   feet  pattered  across  the 

frozen  floor ; 
And  the  little  fingers  fumbled  at  the  cold  lock 

of  the  door ; 
And  the  bolt  squeaked  out  in  anger :  "  I  will 

never  ope,  because  — 
Just  then  the  door  flew  open  wide,  and  there 

stood  Santa  Claus ! 
Such  a  funny,  funny  fellow,  and  with  such  a 

cheery  grin, 
And  Willie's  heart  went  pit-a-pat  as  he  said : 

"  P'ease  come  in." 
Ill 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Then  Santa  Glaus  stepped  back  and  tied  his 

reindeer  to  a  post, 
While  Willie  stood  beside  the  door  and  froze 

and  froze,  almost. 

His  face  just  beamed  with  laughter  as  straight 
way  he  came  back ; 
And  you  should  have  seen  the  presents  in  his 

lovely,  lovely  pack  ! 
And  he  picked  up  Willie  Wiggins  and  hid  him 

in  his  coat, 
And  Willie  merely  said,  "  My-ee !  "  his  pleasure 

to  denote. 
He  really  was  so  happy  that  he  could  n't  well 

say  more 
At  sight  of  all  the  presents  Santa  spread  upon 

the  floor. 

Then  Santa  kissed  him  gently,  and  said  :  "  WThy, 
bless  your  heart ! 

It 's  getting  very,  very  late  ;  I  fear  that  I  must 
start, 

For  I  Ve   many,  many  presents   for  a  million 
children  more, 

Where  the  chimneys  are  not  narrow,  as  I  ascer 
tained  before." 

Then  he  hurried  through  the  doorway,  and  he 
scampered  to  his  sled ; 
112 


The  Little  Boy  who  Saiv  Santa  Claus 

And  Willie  beard  the  sleigh-bells  as  he  pattered 

off  to  bed, 
And  in  his  dreams   throughout   the   night  he 

wore  a  smile,  because  — 
He  was  the  only  little  boy  who  e'er  saw  Santa 

Claus. 


113 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


SHE'S   GONE 
AWAY 


LIKE  to  take  her  in  my  arms ; 
Like  to  soothe  her  as  I  did, 
Shielding  her  from  wee  alarms, 
On  my  loving  bosom  hid ; 
Wish  that  1  could  hear  her  voice 

Ringing  out  in  baby  play, 
Calling  on  me  to  rejoice  ; 

But  I  can't  —  she  's  gone  away. 

Sorry  that  sometimes  I  said, 

"  Do  go  'way  !     You  bother  me." 

Now  there 's  quietness  instead. 
And  I  long  to  bothered  be. 
114 


She  's  Gone  Away 


Why,  I  'd  give  the  best  I  know 
Just  to  hear  her  romp  and  play, 

And  I  'd  let  my  writing  go, 

But  I  can't  —  she  's  gone  away. 

There  were  roses,  great  an'  small, 
In  her  hand  that  day  —  that  day  ; 

She  the  sweetest  bud  of  all  — 
And  she  bothered  me !     I  say  ; 

Used  to  bother  me  !  when  I, 

«.  ' 

I  would  give  the  daylight's  grace 
Just  to  hear  her  romping  nigh, 
Making  riotous  the  place. 

House  is  very  quiet  now, 
Very  orderly  and  neat, 
Toys  not  lying  anyhow, 

Pitfalls  for  my  careless  feet ; 
No  one  comes  to  worry  me 
In  my  work,  though 

oft  forbid, 

Clam'rous  for  a  thron 
ing  knee, 

But  I  wish  —  I  wish 
she  did. 


115 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


OH,  little  wee  maiden,  who  sit  and  sing, 
Rocking  yourself  in  a  rockaby  chair, 
What  do  the  elfins  who  lazily  swing 
On    beams    of    the    sunlight    whisper    you 

there? 
What  do  they  whisper,  that  straight  from  your 

heart, 
A  smile,   creeping   upward,   illumines  your 

eyes? 

What  do  they  weave  in  their  magical  art 
From  gossamer  strands  that  they  steal  from 
the  skies  ? 

Dreams  of  the  future,  castles  that  stand 
In  the  beautiful  world  of  a  far-away  land  ; 
Castles  of  crimson  and  purple  and  gold  ; 
Dreams  that  the  wonderful  morrows  enfold. 
116 


Oh,   Little  Wee  Maiden 


Oh,  little  wee  maiden,  the  elfins  take 

The  gold  of  the  sunset,  the  crimson  of  skies 
That  blush  into  sleep  ere  the  morning  shall 

wake 
The  world,  oh,  the  world  that  is  weary  and 

wise; 
And  the  gold  and  the  crimson  they  build  into 

dreams, 

Into  castles  of  splendor  your  eyes  to  delight ; 
And  the  moonlight  or  starlight  still  sparkles 

and  gleams 

On  jewels  God  strikes  from  the  bosom  of 
night. 

Sheen  of  the  moonlight  on  diamonds  of  dew, 
All  shining  bright,  little  maiden,  for  you. 
All  of  the  morrows  still  reaching  away 
Nothing  can  bring  like  the  dreams  of  to-day. 

Oh,  little  wee  maiden,  your  song  sinketh  low, 

For  the  fairies  of  dreamland  are  calling, 
And  soon  shall  my  little  one  drowsily  go 

Where  the  sleeptide  is  rising  and  falling ; 
And    the   elfins  that   swing   on   a    tremulous 

beam, 

The  last  of  the  day  that  is  dying, 
117 


Lays  fo r  Little  Ch ap s 


Kiss  hands  to  you  still  in  the  vanishing  gleam. 
"  Good  night  "  and  "  Good  night  "  they  are 
sighing. 

Elfins  will  go  and  the  dream  fairies  stay ; 
This  it  is  comes  at  the  close  of  the  day. 
So  come  to  me,  little  one,  e'en  as  I  write ; 
One  sweet   kiss,  my   darling ;   one   more  and 
—  good  night. 


118 


The  Poor  Little  Birdies 


THE  POOR  LITTLE  BIRDIES 

THE  poor  little  birdies   that  sleep  in 
the  trees, 
Going   rockaby,   rockaby,   lulled    by 
the  breeze  ; 
The   poor   little   birdies,   they   make    me   feel 

bad, 

Oh,  terribly,  dreadfully,  dismally  sad, 
For — think    of    it,   little    one;    ponder    and 

weep  — 

The  birdies  must  stand  when  they  sleep,  when 
they  sleep ; 

And  their  poor  little  legs  — 

I  am  sure  it  is  so  — 
They  ache,  and  they  ache, 

For  they  're  weary,  you  know. 
119 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


And  that  is  the  reason  that  far  in  the  night 
You  may  hear  them  say,  "  Dear-r-r ! "  if  you 

listen  just  right, 
For  the  poor  little  birdies  that  sleep  on  the 

bough 
Would  like  to  lie  down,  but  they  do  not  know 

how. 


Just  think  of  it,  darling  ;  suppose  you  must 

stand 
On    your    wee    brown    legs,    all    so    prettily 

planned ; 
Suppose  you  must  stand  when  you  wanted  to 

sleep, 
I  am  sure  you  would  call  for  your  mamma  and 

weep; 
And  your  poor  little  legs,  they  would  cramp,  I 

have  guessed, 
And  your  poor  little  knees,  they  would  call  for 

a  rest ; 


And  you  'd  cry,  I  am  sure, 
For  so  weary  you  'd  be, 

And  you  'd  want  to  lie  down, 
But  you  could  n't,  you  see ; 
120 


The  Poor  Little  Birdies 


And   that  is  the  reason  why   we  should  feel 

bad 
For  the  poor  little  birdies,  who  ought  to  be 

glad, 
For  they  want  to  lie  down  as  they  sleep  on  the 

bough  ; 
They  want  to  lie  down,  but  they  don't  know 

how. 


121 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


(JIVE  ME 

THE  FABLES 


GIVE  me  the  fables,  the  old  folk-lore 
Of  the  beautiful,  mythical  time, 
When  I  dreamed  that  the  world  was 
bright  before 

And  its  hills  were  easy  to  climb ; 
When  Santa  Glaus  came  —  I  knew   that   he 

did  — 

My  quota  of  presents  to  leave, 
And  his  sleigh-bells  jingled  my  dreams  amid, 
On  the  wonderful  Christmas  Eve. 

Give  me  the  fables  —  Oh,  never  a  doubt 

Puzzled  my  sister  and  me  ; 
We  were  certain  that  Santa  was  roaming  with 
out, 

And  we  laughed  in  our  infantile  glee 
122 


Give  Me  the  Fables 


Till  mother  came  softly,  and  said :  "  You  must 

sleep, 

For  Santa  won't  come  till  you  do." 
Oh,  that  was  a  statement  to  make  the  flesh 

creep, 
So  we  tried  hard  to  sleep  —  would  n't  you  ? 


Give  me  the  fables.     Don't  tell  me  our  bliss 

Was  wholly  a  fanciful  thrill, 
For  the  morning  brought  proof  of  his  visit,  I 
wis, 

Though  you  may  dispute  if  you  will. 
The  engine  that  tooted,  the  ball  that  we  threw, 

Till  it  landed  the  china  amid  — 
Tf  Santa  Glaus  brought  not  these  gifts  to  us 
two, 

Will  you  please  just  to  mention  who  did  ? 

Give  me  the  fables.     Gray  phantoms,  at  best, 
Are  the  things  that  we  label  as  real ; 

Our  gold  endures  not  in  the  ultimate  test, 
And  fame  is  a  mocker,  we  feel. 
123 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


But  the  cheer  and  the  joy  of  the  girl  and  the 
boy  — 

Oh,  Life,  you  have  taught  me  this  : 
While  others  may  grasp  at  your  shining  alloy, 

I  will  hold  to  the  fable  of —  bliss. 


124 


A  Song  for  the  Little  Chapss 


A  SONG  FOR  THE  LITTLE  CHAPS 


HERE  is  a  song  for  the  little  chaps, 
The  little  wee  fellows  who  don't 
know  why 
The  round  world  turns ;  and  I  guess,  perhaps, 

That  neither  do  you  and  neither  do  I. 
Here  is  a  song  for  the  comical  mites, 
Round  and  rosy  and  fat  and  sleek, 
Who  gaze  in  amaze  on  the  world's  queer  sights ; 
And  here  is  the  blessing  I  cannot  speak. 

Here  is  a  song  for  the  ones  that  gaze 

In  queer  consternation  on  finger  and  toe, 
And  note  they  are  moving  in  speechless  amaze, 
And  wonder  who  wound  them  and  made  the 
things  go. 

125 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


The   dear   little   fellows   who   deem   mother's 
breast 

Is  all  of  the  world,  and  a  good  world,  too, 
I  am  singing  to  them,  while  they  lie  at  rest  ; 

And  really  what  better  is  there  to  do? 

Here  is  a  song  for  the  babes  that  stand 

Nearer  to  God  than  the  grown  folk  do ; 
Fresh  little  buds  from  the  Heaven-land 

Who  deem  that  the  world  is  fair  and  new. 
Bundles  of  helplessness,  dearer  than  all 

Yet  born  of  the  morning  and  kissed  by  its 

dew  ; 
Feeble  and  wondering,  blinking 

and  small, 

Babes  whom  I  love,  I  am  sing 
ing  to  you. 


126 


When  EC  en  Comes 


WHEN  EVEN  COMES 


WHEN  the  even  comes  and  the  angels 
light 
Their  lamps  in  the  fields  of  heaven  ; 
When   the   wee  birds   twitter:  "Good  night, 

good  night ; 

It  is  rest  time  and  nest  time  —  't  is  even," 
Oh,  then  to  their  mothers  the  children  creep, 

For  the  poor  little  bodies  are  weary  ; 
And  they  sing  them  and  croon  them  all  soundly 

asleep : 
"  Oh,  sleep  thee,  my  dearie,  my  dearie. 

"  Sleep  thee,  darling,  sleep  thee  well ; 
Rock  upon  the  Sleep  Sea  swell, 

Lost  each  baby  sorrow. 
Rest  and  peace  press  down  thine  eyes ; 
Angels  guard  thee  from  the  skies  — 
Thou  shalt  wake  to-morrow." 
127 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


When  the  even  comes  and  our  labor 's  done, 

And  we  're  worn  with  our  life's  endeavor  ; 
When  faint  is  the  light  of  our  setting  sun, 

And  our  hands  are  enfolded  forever, 
Oh,  then  to  our  Father  we  children  creep, 

For  our  hearts  are  so  weary,  so  weary, 
And  we  hear  His  low  voice  through  the  life- 
giving  sleep  : 

"  Oh,  rest  thee,  my  dearie,  my  dearie. 

"  Rest  thee,  darling,  rest  thee  well ; 
Here  do  love  and  blessing  dwell, 
Lost  each  childish  sorrow. 

Lo,  I  hold  thee  to 

my  breast ; 
Rest  thee,  dear 
one,  sweetly 
rest  — 

Here   is    Life's 
to-morrow." 


128 


At  the  Bottom  of  the  Sea 


AT  THE   BOTTOM   OF  THE  SEA 


DO  you  think  you  'd  like  to  be  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea, 
With  the  pollyhinkus  swinging   all 
around, 
And    the    gogglers,    with   their    eyes    big    as 

mamma's   custard   pies, 
And  the  winkus  that  goes  crawling  on  the 
ground, 

And  the  spry, 
(Oh,  my  eye !) 
The  spry,  spry,  spry, 

The  very,  very,  very,  very,  spry  springaree 
That  slides  through  the  glare  of  the  water 

everywhere 
On   the  shifting,  lifting    bottom  of  the   deep 

blue  sea? 
9  129 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


At  the  bottom  of  the  sea  there  is    strangest 

mystery, 
For  the  queen  of  all  the   sprites   is  living 

there, 
With  amber  beads  for  eyes,  and  she  lives  on 

oyster  fries, 

And  she  hates  to  hear   the   wicked    sailors 
swear ; 

And  her  hair, 
It  is  fair ; 

It  is  fair,  fair,  fair  ; 
It  is  very,  very,   very,  very,   very  bright  and 

fair ; 
And   the    fishes   swim   about   through    her 

palace  in  and  out, 

Through    the   shifting,    lifting    water   that  is 
everywhere. 


But  I  want  to  tell  you,  dear,  and  I  hope  that 

you  will  hear, 
That  really  it  is  better  to  be  living  on  the 

ground, 
Where  the   sights  are  not  so  queer,  but  the 

atmosphere  is  clear, 

And  in  order  to  enjoy  it  't  is  n't  needful  to 
be  drowned ; 

130 


For  you  know 
(It  is  so, 

And  you  should  know,  know) 
It  is  really,  really  chilly  where  the  dim  depths 

be ; 
And  it 's  surely  very  tough,  yes,  it  certainly 

is  rough, 

For  you  can't  breathe  a  little  in  the  deep  blue 
sea. 


131 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


DOROTHY'S   the  baby;   she's  but  a 
tiny  tot, 
But,  oh,  she  knows  so  many  things 
that  I  have  long  forgot. 
She  knows  the  thrill  of  laughter ;  she  knows 

its  music,  too, 

And  when  her  cheery  voice  rings  out  I  listen  — 
would  n't  you? 

I  listen,  half-way  smiling,  and  then  it  seems  to 

me 
She  knows  just  what  the  heaven  is,  and  I  've 

forgot,  you  see. 
But  one  thing  she  knows  better,   e'en  better 

than  the  rest ; 
She  knows —  ah,  well  she  knows  it  —  that  her 

mother  loves  her  best. 
132 


Dorothy's  Wisdom 


I  write  it  half  in  envy,  for  she  is  dear  to  me, 
And  so  I  show  her  pictures  as  she  sits  upon  my 

knee ; 
And  I  try  to  tell  their  stories  in  the  words  at 

my  command. 
While  she  offers  sage  suggestions  that  I  cannot 

understand. 
I  listen  to  her  chatter  just  to  learn  what  she 

may  tell ; 
I  lay  my  siege  unto  her  heart  and  think  I  'in 

doing  well, 
And,  even  as  I  think  it,  she  leaves  her  throne 

of  rest 
And  toddles  to  her  mother,  the  one  that  loves 

her  best. 


Oh,  Dorothy,  my  baby,  I  think  perhaps  you're 

right  : 
There  is  no  love  like  mother-love  this  side  the 

land  of  light. 
Though  scanty  be  your  knowledge  of  the  path 

that  you  must  tread 
And  though  it  be  but  baby  lore  that  fills  your 

little  head, 
Your  wisdom  is  the  highest  when  you  seek  your 

mother  still 

133 


Lay s  for  Little  Ch ap s 


And  deem  her  safest  refuge  from  your  every 

baby  ill. 
I  know  that  you  are  sagely  right,  yet  grant  my 

one  request : 
If  mother-love  be  best  of  love,  please  count 

mine  second  best. 


134 


The  Teacher  Knows 


THE  TEACHER  KNOWS 


ONE  time  my  teacher  said,  says  she : 
"  It 's  no  use  talkin' ;  seems  to  me 
That  you  're  the  worse  boy  that  I  've 
got; 

You  're  worser  than  the  rest,  a  lot. 
I  've  whipped  you,  an'  I  Ve  scolded,  too  ; 
Don't  make  no  difference  what  I  do, 
You  keep  right  on  jus'  zif  I  'd  not. 
Ain't  you  the  worst  boy  that  I've  got? " 
135 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


An'  then  my  teacher  said,  says  she  : 
"  Your  case  is  always  puzzlin'  me. 
Now  don't  you  know  it  hurts  me,  too, 
When  scoldin'  or  a-whippin'  you  ? 


I  always  want  you  to  be  good 
An'  actin'  like  a  nice  boy  should, 
Because  I  love  you."    -  Then  she  sighed, 
An'  I  —  I  —  well,  T  up  an'  cried. 

Since  then  my  teacher 's  gone  away, 
An'  I  don't  go  to  school  an'  play, 
An'  study  some,  's  I  used  to  do 
Before  my  schoolin'  days  was  through. 
13G 


But  still  my  Teacher  says,  says  He  : 
"  I  'in  teacliin'  you  as  seems  to  me 
Is  best ;  with  sorrow's  sting  an'  blow 
I  'in  teachin'  you  the  way  to  go." 

An'  then  my  Teacher  says,  says  He  : 
"  If  only  you  '11  look  up  to  me 
Through  eyes  bedimmed  with  trouble's  rain, 
You  '11  learn  the  lesson  hid  in  pain, 
An'  know,  though  cruel  seems  the  blow, 
'T  was  dealt  because  I  love  you  so." 
An,'  though  I'm  weary  an'  oppressed, 
I  guess  mv  Teacher  knows  the  best. 


137 


Lay s  for  Little  Ch ap s 


J 


OH,  swimming  is  n't  what  it  was  ; 
The  times  have  changed  since  when 
I  used  to  swim  six  times  a  day, 
And  then  — go  in  again. 
I  did  n't  need  a  bathing  suit 
In  those  old  days  of  glee  ; 
The  bathing  suit  that  nature  gave 
Was  good  enough  for  me. 
138 


Swimming  Isn't  What  It  Was 

And  if  one  didn't  like  the  buff, 

Why,  this  thing  can  be  said : 
The  sun  was  always  good  enough 

To  partly  paint  it  red. 
The  boys  don't  duck  me  as  they  did 

When  I  was  three  feet  high, 
Nor  dive  beneath  and  pinch  my  legs  — 

Will  some  one  tell  me  why  ? 

No  more  when  I  a  swim  have  had 

My  mother  says  to  me, 
"  You  've  been  in  swimming,  you  bad  boy  ; 

Your  hair  is  wet,  I  see." 
And  I  don't  tell  her  as  I  did, 

With  heart  inclined  to  thump, 
"  No,  ma'am,  I  have  n't  swimmed  at  all ; 

I  wet  it  at  the  pump." 

Ah,  times  have  changed  ;  the  stingful  switch 

No  more  is  on  my  hide, 
As  when  my  mother  ascertained 

Her  youthful  son  had  lied. 
She  used  to  say :  "  You  've  been  exposed 

To  sickness  all  untold, 
And  this,  I  think,  my  little  boy, 

Will  drive  away  a  cold." 
139 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


And  then  she  warmed  me  !  I  recall 

That  scene  through  vistas  dim. 
She  made  it  lively  for  a  time ; 

But,  then  — :  I  had  my  swim  ! 
Oh,  golden  days  of  long  ago, 

Come  back,  come  back  again, 
For  swimming  is  n't  what  it  was  ; 

The  times  have  changed  since  then. 


140 


My  First  Autograpli 


MY  FIRST  AUTOGRAPH 

OH,  don't  I  remember  —  I  guess  that  I 
do!- 
When  you  asked  me  to  write  in  your 
book? 
The  moon  of  December  was  piercing  the  blue, 

And  the  eyes  of  the  stars  seemed  to  look, 
As  you  stood  in  the  shadow.     Heigho !  but  the 

world 

Has  gone  whirling  and  whirling  since  then  ; 
But  that  was  the  night  when  the  grass  was 

impearled 
By  the  dewdrops  asleep  in  the  glen. 

Oh,  don't  I  remember  —  I  certainly  do  !  — 
How  I  puzzled  one-third  of  a  night, 

Till  the  last  dying  ember  had  fallen  in  two, 
To  make  up  my  mind  what  to  write  ? 
141 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


Then  I  wrote  ('t  was  n't  new)  :  "  The  ro&e  it  is 

red, 

And  the  meek  little  violet 's  blue, 
And  the  pink,  it  is  sweet, "  —  it  was  thus  that  I 

said  — 
"  But  not  half  so  sweet  as  are  you." 

Oh,  don't  I  remember  —  be  sure  that  I  do !  — 

The  staggering  couplet  I  wrote  ? 
I  could  n't  have  claimed  for  a  moment  't  was 

new  — 

'T  was  my  mother  who  told  me  to  quote. 
But  one  thing  I  '11  say,  as  I  look  through  the 

glow 

Of  the  dawn,  little  maiden,  to  you  : 
Though  I  well  might  have  written  more  sagely, 

I  know, 
I  could  n't  have  written  more  true. 


142 


My  Little  Valentine 


MY  LITTLE   VALENTINE 


IF  1  could  write  a  valentine 
To  please  a  little  love  of  mine ; 
If  I  could  catch  some  knack  of  metre 
To  make  her  deem  the  music  sweeter 
Than  song  of  birds, 

The  drone  of  bees, 
The  loo  of  herds, 

The  whisp'ring  breeze. 
Why,  I  would  write  this  valentine 
To  please  a  little  love  of  mine. 

If  I  could  write  a  valentine 
All  worthy  of  this  love  of  mine, 
Its  tinkling  words  must  sweetly  beat 
To  rhythm  of  her  tripping  feet ; 
143 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


And  it  must  reach 
The  perfect  key 
Of  baby  speech 

That  gladdens  me ; 
But,  as  such  art  were  never  mine, 
I  kiss,  instead,  my  valentine. 


144 


Hushaby,  Lullaby 


HUSHABY,   LULLABY 


HUSHABY,  lullaby,  my  little  men  ; 
The  Sandman  conies,    but   he   goes 
again. 

Hushaby,  lullaby,  wee  little  maids ; 
The  round  world  turns  and  it  seeks  the  shades, 
And  Sleep  comes  stealing  adown,  adovvn, 
And  closes  the  eyes  of  blue  or  brown, 
And   he    weaves    his   net    and   it   holds   you 

thrall  - 
Hushaby,  lullaby,  little  ones  all. 

Hushaby,  lullaby.     One  little  star 

Is  peeping  adown  from  afar,  so  far 

That   its  great  white  light  is  a  slender  beam 

When  it  reaches  the  world  where  the  babies 

dream  ; 
10  145 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


A  slender  beam  that  can  only  kiss 
The  wee  little  heads  —  for  it  came  for  this  — 
Ere  it  dies  away  in  a  glimmer  small  — 
Hushaby,  lullaby,  little  ones  all. 

Hushaby,  lullaby.     Life  is  a  maze 

Where  blindly  we  wander  through  wearisome 

days, 
Through  wearisome  days   when   the  spirit  is 

numb, 

Till  out  of  the  shadows  the  little  ones  come  ; 
Then  mothers  stoop  to  them  to  kiss  and  caress, 
And  the  souls  of  the  fathers  they  gladden  and 

bless ; 
For  straight  from  the   heavens   God's   angels 

they  call  — 
Hushaby,  lullaby,  little  ones  all. 


146 


When  Baby  Bloweth  Kisses 


WHEN  BABY   BLOWETH  KISSES 


WHEN  baby  bloweth  kisses 
From  fingers  pink  and  wee, 
Like  some  sweet  rain  of  blisses 
To  cheer  my  heart  and  me, 
I  care  not  then  how  utter 

Or  stern  the  day's  demands, 
While  I  watch  the  flutter,  flutter 
Of  the  waving  little  hands. 
147 


Lays  for  Little  Chaps 


When  baby  bloweth  kisses 

To  me,  upon  the  street, 
She  sometimes  says :  "  Now  zis  is 

A  kiss  'at 's  vewy  sweet :  " 
And  I  tell  her  ere  I  leave  her 

'T  was  better  than  the  rest, 
And,  faith !  I  don't  deceive  her, 

For  each  of  them  is  best. 

When  baby  bloweth  kisses, 

The  bees  that  seek  their  store 
In  blossoms'  pink  abysses, 

Might  turn  to  her  for  more ; 
And,  oh,  her  laughter  ringeth 

Like  some  sweet  fairy  bell ; 
And,  oh,  my  old  heart  singeth 

A  song  no  words  may  tell. 

When  baby  bloweth  kisses  — 
Ye  men  whose  years  increase, 

While   life   the    pathway 

misses 
To    summer    lands    of 

peace, 

Now  tell  me  if  there  lingers 
Elsewhere  a  single  bliss 
To  match  the  little  fingers 
That  waft  to  you  a  kiss. 
148 


7922 


UCLA-Young  Research  Library 

PS3157  .W29 


L  009  617  015  4 


SOUT 

UNIVERSI 
L 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001  225  723    4 


LOS  ANGELES,  CAUF; 


